


Meneur de Loups

by Lunasirnape257



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mating, Porn Ladder, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasirnape257/pseuds/Lunasirnape257
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tragic experience which destroyed his career, Will Graham thought he never would have to face another werewolf in his life. Now, there is a werewolf killing young girls in Minnesota and the head of the FBI Behavioral Sciense Unit, Jack Crawford, wants him working in the case. Will would have to join forces with his former mentor and with the werewolf and psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter to catch the beast... and on his way, this case will show him so many unexpected things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Meneur de Loups](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587024) by [Lunasirnape257](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasirnape257/pseuds/Lunasirnape257)



> The characters that appear in this story - except those who have never appeared on the tv show or in the novels/films relating to the character of Hannibal Lecter and, therefore, are entirely my invention and property to the development of the plot – don't belong to me. Its creation and rights are owned by Thomas Harris, Bryan Fuller, the NBC Channel and the DeLaurentis company.

The forensic laboratory of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit in Quantico (Virginia) was a large rectangular room, located on the ground floor of the Bureau's headquarters. It was surrounded by walls made in reinforced glass, its entrance situated down a long corridor.

Inside, the room was decorated in white and neutral tones, everything was in order and scrupulously clean. Often Jack Crawford, head of the unit, got the impression that he was deeping into the bowels of a spaceship when he entered it. At such times, the forensic team was focused on his work: Beverly Katz was back of the room, analysing evidences, while Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price were chatting by the autopsy table, on which rested a skeleton whose bones were bright and white.

Jack frowned as he came to them. He knew that colour wasn't natural but a trick of the killer, who treated the bones with chemicals to leave them clean and shiny. He always did. It was part of his ritual, such as his mania for removing all meat or placing the bones in almost inaccessible spots, near to highways and roads... or his habit of killing with full moon.

'Have you found anything?' he asked, stopping in front of the two men.

Price and Zeller looked at their boss. They had asked him by phone to come to the lab just a moment ago. Price nodded, took the small remote control that was linked by a cable to the TV monitor hanging from the wall and pressed a button. On the screen it could be seen a photo of the victim: a teenage girl with white skin, black hair and beautiful huge blue eyes. She was young, attractive... just a little girl.

'Her name was Elise Nichols.' said the coroner.' She was eighteen. She was a university student from St. Paul. The profile and modus operandi match with the other's and she has been identified in the same way.'

Jack let out the air from his lungs with a sigh. It was the seventh victim in seven months and all of them had been identified by their dental records because the killer always left behind nothing but their bones. It was possible that there was an eighth victim but they couldn't confirm that because the girl in question was in Port Haven, totally traumatized and in shock, after what seemed to have been an attack: she had been find wandering in her nightdress on a rural road not far from St. Paul, bewildered and speechless. Today she still couldn't answer any questions.

But it was better not to think about that.

'Tell me he has left us some clue, although it was small.'

'He has and it's a good one.' Zeller intervened and pressed the button for his partner, moving to the next image. 'There were teeth marks on some of the bones and, after making the necessary analysis, this is the result.'

Another touch the button and this time the picture was in 3D. Jack could see the reconstruction of the jaw and teeth that had left their mark on Elise Nichols' bones. It was an elongated snout with predator teeth. It ran a chill down his back and he turned to look at his subordinates gravely.

'Are you serious?'

'Totally serious.' Price said. 'I'm afraid the murderer is not human, Jack. He's a werewolf.'

'You'll have to call the Special Brigade, sir.' Zeller added.

Jack pursed his lips. He felt the urge to swear. A bloody werewolf! That was the last straw! It wasn't enough that all Minnesota was frightened by the disappearance of universitary girls. The thing would get even worse if they came to learn that the author was a werewolf, the masses' favourite horror.

He had to think of something.

'The Special Brigade don't know how to deal with serial killers.' he alleged. 'I'll find someone better.'

'It's assumed that they are the best.' said Price, frowning slightly. 'And we are legally obliged to warn them in these cases...'

'We will.' Jack promised. 'At the end of the day, we will need access to their user registry. But I prefer it was others who deal with the case. In fact, I know the perfect person for the job.'

'You aren't talking about who I think you're talking.'

'Who else?'

Price sighed.

'Good luck, Jack, you will need it. And I hope you can get him working before this get out of hand. You know how much people love werewolves killers.'

'Don't worry. Is there anything else that you can tell me about the victim or our murderer?'

'No. That was all.'

'In that case, I have to go.' Jack took a look at his wristwatch. 'If I hurry, I'll get him in break time.'

'You'll have to find a psychiatrist first!' shouted Price, when he was disappearing through the door.

Jack gave him a nod from afar.

'I'm on it!'

 

 

Dr. Alana Bloom was in her bedroom when her cell phone rang. She picked it up from the table by the full-length mirror and couldn't help but frown upon seeing that the call came from Jack Crawford.

What could he want at that hour?

She took the call:

'Good morning, Jack.'

'Good morning, Dr. Bloom. May I bother you?'

'I was getting ready to go to work. What do you want?'

'I need your advice.'

'Any case in particular?'

'I need you to recommend me to a colleague for a psychological evaluation.'

'For a victim?'

'For an agent.'

'I thought the FBI had psychologists for that.' she said, puzzled.

'Indeed. But I think this case deserves an exception.'

'Ok.' she was silent for a moment, pondering her options. 'I could recommend you a psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he is the best I know. He was my mentor in college and he is a competent and highly respected physician. I'll give you his address.'

'Thanks, doctor. I really apreciate it.'

She dictated him the address of Hannibal's office. When finished, Jack thanked her and there ended their conversation. Alana keep the phone in her purse, which she had also left on the table. As she did, she heard footsteps behind her and when she turned she met Margot face to face. The redhead wore a comfy pair of black trousers and a wide white shirt. She was beautiful in her fourth month of pregnancy.

'Who called you so early?' the red asked, curious.

'Jack Crawford. He wanted a recommendation.'

'Are you going back to work with the FBI?'

'No, one of my colleagues will do... if he agrees, of course.'

Margot nodded, without attaching any importance to the thing. She didn't care about the FBI.

Alana smiled and walked over to lay her hands affectionately on the bulging belly of her wife.

'What are you feeling this morning? You haven't had nausea, have you?'

'No, thanks God. It has been a week since the last time. I hope they have finished.' she wished, honestly.

Alana couldn't blame her. Since the first month of pregnancy, Margot had suffer from a horrible nausea which prevented her from getting out of bed. For more than eight weeks she had to go alone to Verger Industries and run the business without help, making occasional calls to the mansion throughout the day to care about her wife's condition.

It had been a busy time for they both, first with the in vitro fertilization and then the subsequent pregnancy, which with both were very happy and hopeful. They wanted children and Verger Industries also claimed for an heir... it was fortunate that they could kill two birds with one stone.

'Let's go?' said Alana, picking up Margot's bag and offering it to her with a genuine smile.

The redhead corresponded her and picking up her handbag, she slung it over her shoulder.

'Whenever you want, doctor.'

'When you're ready, Mrs. Bloom.'

They held hands and left the room together. A long day of work awaited them.

 

 

Jack Crawford stopped at the doorway of the FBI Academy's cafeteria.

He located Will few tables away, in the middle of the room. He was unmistakable with its black leather briefcase always beside him, his casual clothes that seemed to scream Professor! to anyone who will cast eyes on him and his tousled brown hair that had never known comb or brush that will tame it.

Jack smiled and walked toward him, taking a seat at the table after the youngster noticing his presence and both greeted each other with a gesture.

'Am I interrupting?'

'No. What brings you here?'

'I need your help.'

'Is it a fish, a dog or a engine?' he asked jokingly.

'It's a case.' Jack had brought with him the file and left it open in front of his friend, so he could read it. 'Check it out, I have brought you all the information.'

Will frowned, looking uncomfortable as he looked at the file. He fitted thoughtlessly his blackrimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

'Jack, you know that normally I don't deal with these things. Teaching is my field.'

'But you're one of the best profilers in the Bureau. And you don't lack experience.'

'My fieldwork ended years ago. I'm sure you have at your disposal many agents who are more suitable than me for this job...'

'None of them are ready for this.' he flipped through the pages and showed him the photo of the jaw which the forensics had shown him that morning.

The young man recognized it immediately. He knew exactly what it was and what it meant. He looked at his friend gravely, pursing his lips between fear and rejection.

'Is it a joke?'

'No.'

'I'm not your man.' he said, standing up immediately to leave the table.

'Will.' Jack stopped him grabbing his arm, avoiding him to continue collecting his things to leave.

'You know I don't work in such cases.' he said, freeding from his grasp. 'I'm sorry you wasted your time coming here...'

'He has killed eight girls.' Jack interrupted him. His words caught Will's attention, as he wished. His friend stared at him in silence and he took the opportunity to continue: 'None of them has more than eighteen, they are just little girls: the killer devours them and only leaves us the bones to investigate. We had had to identify them by their dental records. Next month it will be a full moon... then maybe we can stop him. But I need your help, Will.'

'You don't need me.' he replied, almost begged. 'Notifies the Special Brigade. They deal with werewolves.'

'You were in the Brigade.'

'Yes. And I left. And you know why.' he snapped, angry because of the reminder. 'It's not fair you ask me this.'

'Will, listen to me. We will work with the Brigade, okay? But they know nothing of serial killers. You have experience in both fields and are one of the best in both. You're the perfect person to deal with this case.'

'Jack....'

'Please.' he asked. 'We've still got over three weeks until the next full moon. Help me to catch this murderer. I know either of us wants another child to die.'

Will took a deep breath. He knew his friend was manipulating him. He knew he shouldn't accept it, that it wasn't his responsibility but...

'It's not fair.' he reproached him. 'It's not fair you do this to me, Jack.'

'Come to see me in my office this afternoon, after your lessons. We will work on the case.'

That said, Jack left the table. He could felt Will's gaze fixed on his back as he walked away and he knew they'll see each other again that afternoon, in his office. They both knew his friend couldn't help it. The case would draw him. He has made all in his hand to made him feel obliged and, besides, he was right: none of them wanted more dead girls.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Hannibal Lecter came late in the afternoon to FBI headquarters in Quantico. That morning, Jack Crawford had visited him in his office – by a direct recommendation of his colleague, Alana Bloom - and had offered him to collaborate in one of his cases, carrying out a psychological assessment of a man he described as "a brilliant mind" and "his best field agent." Those words aroused his curiosity and when agent Crawford made him a summary of the case he had to work while carrying out the assessment, he couldn't say no.

They had agreed to meet at five in agent Crawford's office, on the top floor of the building. Hannibal arrived on time, as was his habit, and found the office door open. Inside he could heard two male voices. He stood in the doorstep and knocked politely to announce his presence.

Jack Crawford saw him and smiled.

'Doctor Lecter.' he waved amiably. 'Please, come in, we were waiting for you.'

He entered the room. He saw the other man who was standing in front of a blackboard covered with pictures - presumably of the case - and he caught his attention immediately. Would be he the agent about Crawford had told him?

He watched him, curious. He wasn't a tall. Medium height, thin... apparently a wee man. He was dressed casually, nothing to do with the elegant blue sky suit he wore. His hair was brown and ungovernable, with tips that rippled and curled up to the forehead, ears and neck. Behind his black-rimmed glasses a pair of huge, blue beautiful eyes was hiding. His beauty was remarkable, despite his sloppy appearance. He calculated him an age between thirty and forty, although he wasn't sure because he looked like quite young.

The man was tense. He could feel it in the way his hands were hidden deep in his pockets, also in their challenging way to look at him and the position of his shoulders, thrown slightly forward, as if he was expecting him to attack him. His body language put him on alert... but then the young man took a deep breath, letting the air out of his lungs slowly. He relaxed and the tension suddenly disappeared between them both.

'Will Graham.' he approached him, holding out his hand to shake his.

'Hannibal Lecter. Nice to meet you.' it was a quick and warm squeeze. They stood with folded hands for a good time before separating.

'Are you a doctor, what are your credentials?'

It was a rude question, made in a friendly and inquisitive tone. Jack Crawford sent an irritated look at his subordinate. Hannibal ignored him and proceeded to answer:

'I am a psychiatrist. I'm specialize in psychopathology and have practical experience with violent criminals.'

Will nodded, approving his references.

'You will be responsible for my evaluation.' he said and looked at him serious. 'I don't know if Jack has told you but our murderer is a werewolf. I was legally disabled to work with them many years ago. The Bureau needs a certified professional opinion to rebut that.'

'Mr. Crawford had told me something about it. I trust it wont be a problem for us to work together, Will.'

'I have no other choice, Hannibal.'

He said his name defiantly. He was testing him and coming from any other person, he would have taken it the wrong way. Even he would have felt offended by his lack of manners. But there was some defiance in Will Graham: his eyes spoke of a stubborn, cunning spirit, which prefers to fight with tooth and claw rather than submit itself. That stimulated his natural curiosity to an almost unbearable point.

'Tomorrow at this same time is good for you?' he asked and the other man nodded.

Jack Crawford looked at them and sighed with relief. He knew he should be thankful for the result. Dr. Lecter had been handled masterfully and at least Will had behaved, which knowing him - and also knowing what was his opinion about being psychoanalysed - was really much.

At least they hadn't finished strangling each other in their first meeting.  
  


 

 

 

'Clearly he has a pattern.' said Jack half an hour later, as the three were reviewing the case. 'The reason to attack young girls could be sexual but not having a body to investigate, it's difficult to elucidate.'

'It doesn't have to do with sex.' Will had regained his position by the board. He was watching the photos and his face had that faraway look, totally focused, which used to brandish when he was slowly slipping into the mind of the murderer. 'I get rid of the meat and hide the bones, so that nobody finds them. However, I cannot leave them anyway because I care about them. I have to honour her memory. I treat the bones carefully, leaving them clean and spotless. It serves my purpose and also eliminate any track. Then I formed a mound with those bones and place the skull on top, with affection and respect... like those skeletons in the European catacombs.'

'Why are these girls important to you?' Dr. Lecter asked, rising from his chair to go to him. 'Who they reminds you?'

Will turned to face him and his eyes showed he was totally disconnected from reality. It was fascinating.

'They remind me of someone I love very much. Someone I don't dare to do the same.'

Hannibal stared at him. He witnessed the moment when Will Graham returned to this world with a brief blink. The agent turned away from him, needing to put distance between himself and others, and walked over to the desk where he began to browse through the case file.

Jack, on the other side of the table, watched him intently. It was obvious he was so absorbed in what happened as Lecter himself.

'It's amazing.' praised Dr. Lecter. 'The way you can enter the minds of others...'

'He has a gift.' said the head of unit, proud.

'It's not a gift.' Will replied, annoyed by the misinterpretation of his skills. 'Gifts are something good, this is more like... a nightmare.'

'But this nightmare can take up our man and save the lives of many young girls.' reminded Hannibal. When Will looked at him, he found filled with a sympathetic smile. 'Some gifts don't have to be nice.'

'I agree with that.' he turned his blue eyes toward the blackboard. 'As these young women: one of them is a golden ticket for the murderer, the rest are just candy bars.'

'How old it is estimated to be our man?'

'The jaw reveals he is an adult male. Between 30 and 50 years old.'

'So it's not very likely that golden ticket was his partner. A daughter, perhaps? They are very young girls.'

'That would fit.' meditated Will. 'Most of the victims was looking college to study. Some were already freshmen.'

'The chick leaves the nest.' confirmed Lecter, looking at him significantly. Will couldn't take his eyes off of him. 'Maybe our man doesn't like the idea of losing her.'

'I tend to think so.' he suddenly broke eye contact and turned his head to look at Jack. 'The young woman who is in Port Haven: Emily. What about her?'

His boss sighed, wincing.

'She's still in shock. She hasn't said a word since a week ago. Her family is waiting to take her home but it's not expected to be soon.'

'Have you collected any evidence of the night she was found?' Hannibal wanted to know, interested.

'Yes. The forensic team is analyzing them.'

'If there is no objection, I'd like to visit the girl in Port Haven. Maybe I can help.'

'I'll arrage a meeting.' he reached for the telephone on the table, not far from him, and began to dial the number of the mental institution. 'It will be a miracle if you can get her to talk.'

'Can I go with you?' Will asked and Lecter nodded immediately.

'Not going anywhere without my partner.' he joked.

The agent just hinted a smile and said with irony:

'I guess I cannot go anywhere in this case without my supervisor.'

'I'm not a supervisor, Will. In your case, at best I'm a therapist.'

'Make it any difference?' he asked, looking at him with amused interest.

Lecter smiled.

'That's for you to say.'

 


	3. Chapter 3

They went to Port Haven in Dr. Lecter's car. They left the car in the parking lot, which was in front of the west facade of the building, and walked together to the reception where they met Dr. Preston.

Jack had contacted him for being the doctor in charge of the case of Emily. It was a short man, about fifty years old. He was casually dressed and wore a square-framed glasses that hid a pair of huge brown eyes, which matched the sparse hair that covered his head.

After greet them with a warm handshake, the doctor led them through the corridors to the room of his patient.

'How is Emily responding to therapy, doctor?' Hannibal asked on the way.

'We advance at a slow pace. But I can tell you she has improved a lot these days: she doesn't speak yet but otherwise she is fully functional, although her psyche is still fragile. Mr. Crawford assured me that this interview wouldn't disturb her.'

'Not at all.' he promised. 'Tell me, doctor, have you found a way she can communicate with you?'

'By writing.' Preston nodded. 'We have provided her with paper and pencil and she uses them when she wants, mostly to draw. Her drawings are quite significant.'

'Can we see them?' Will asked, interested.

'Whenever you want. She has hung them in her room.'

They came to the room and Preston knocked politely before entering. The room was very simple, like any other in the institution: a single bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, a nightstand and a desk with its respective chair. Walls in neutral colors, wooden furniture... Emily was standing by the window, watching the scenery. She wore jeans and a sweater and all this made her seem smaller and more fragile than she actually was.

'Emily. Good morning.' Dr. Preston greeted with a friendly and professional tone. 'These gentlemen are from the FBI, they want to talk to you.'

The girl turned around. She looked at them cautiously. Preston took time to say goodbye.

'I'll leave you alone. If you need anything, I'll be in my office.'

Will and Hannibal nodded in unison. When the doctor disappeared, Hannibal entered the room at a leisurely pace, while he introduced them:

'Emily, I'm Dr. Lecter. He is my partner, agent Graham. We would like...'

When he arrived near to the girl, she dodged. She go away from him and sat on her bed across the room. She stood there in silence, staring at the floor. Hannibal exchanged a look with Will. The man, in response, headed his steps to the dresser that was near to the bed. Over it there was an ornate mirror with a single photo: it showed a younger Emily embracing smiling a beautiful dog with long tricolor mantle. Pet and owner seemed very close.

'It's a beautiful dog.' he praised, turning to look at the girl. 'It's a Labrador and collie mix, right? The physiognomy and the mantle are unmistakable.' Emily looked up, her attention caught, and Will smiled at her. That kind of smile would relax anyone. 'I have seven dogs at home. I pick them up from the streets. I found my last on the road two days ago. I called him Winston. He's a bit shy but already has shown he can be pretty affectionate. Animals are the best of this world, don't you think? They are noble and completely unconditional.'

Emily nodded, barely outlining a smile. Will came to her slowly and sat beside her. This time the girl didn't run away. She seemed comfortable with his presence. Hannibal looked at them from his position, fascinated by the achievements of his partner.

'Emily, Dr. Lecter and I would like to ask you about what happened that night. If you want to tell us, of course.'

The girl looked away. Her right hand gripped the blanket that covered the bed and twisted it nervously.

'Let's do one thing.' he proposed, taking her hand gently. 'I make you questions and you answer me yes or no. A grip for yes and two for no, are you okay?' an unsure grip. 'Very good. Let's start with simple things: your name is Emily.' grip. 'You're eighteen.' two grips. 'Seventeen.' Will corrected himself, satisfied that the method works, despite being rudimentary. 'Good. The night you were found, do you remember leaving your home?' No. 'Do you remember police found you on the road?' Yes. 'Do you were fleeing from something?' Yes. Will paused, before asking. 'Do you were fleeing from a werewolf?'

This time the grip was so strong and prolonged that it hurt. Emily began to fidget nervously.

'Will...' Hannibal warned him.

'Easy.' the agent placed a hand on the girl and fondled it until she relaxed the grip and let him go. 'Don't worry, it's ok. There, that was it, we're done. You've helped us a lot, Emily. Thank you.'

Emily lay in bed, giving her back on him. The message was clear. Will got up and motioned to Hannibal to leave the room. It was better than the girl now relax and be at peace.

'She won't say us anything more.' he said, closing the door behind him. They walked down the aisle. 'She's going to need a lot of therapy.'

'But we can confirm her as the eighth victim.'

'I'm sure. She meets the profile to the letter and she's just confirmed us that what attacked her was a werewolf. It would be too coincidental that there were two of them hunting in the same area.'

'Why do you think he let her go?' Hannibal asked, as they crossed the doors of the institution and headed toward the parking lot. 'What makes Emily different from the others?'

'I don't know.' they reach the car and Will frowned. 'Let me in the office, so I can review the file. I feel there is something that escapes me.'

'I'm sure you'll find it.' predicted Hannibal, while they got in the car and set off.

After what happened with Emily, he believed Will Graham was able to accomplish anything he proposed.

 

 

 

On Tuesday morning, the sun broke early through the window in Jack Crawford's office. Will was lying on the sofa, where he had fallen asleep the night before after spending hours working in the case.

He awoke at the smell of coffee: a strong, pure and tantalizing smell, nothing to do with the slop that the vending machines in the building served. He opened his eyes and as he sat on the couch, saw Dr. Lecter beside the desk. Dressed in an elegant red stripes suit, he was serving hot coffee from a thermos into two cups and beside him there were two open lunchboxes. The smell of breakfast made protest his empty stomach.

'Good morning.' greeted the doctor, looking at him with a smile. 'I arrived early and I found you here. Don't you went home last night?'

'I was late.' he argued. 'I was rereading Emily's file.'

'Have you found out something?' he came to him with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand and sat on the couch as he gave it to him.

Will took a sip and couldn't control the sound of satisfaction that came from his throat. He looked at Hannibal and saw a big smile on his face.

'This is delicious.' he approved.

'Thank you.'

'Do you know there is a cafeteria in the building, don't you?'

'I'm sure it must be excellent but I am very careful with what I eat. I always take my food with me. Today I brought for two, I thought you could need it after so much work.'

'There was no need to bother.'

'It hasn't been a nuisance, Will. I like to have company to eat.'

Will nodded sympathetically. He took another sip of his coffee.

'I've been thinking.' he said after a moment.

'About what?'

'About the reasons for the murderer to let Emily go. After reviewing her file, all that makes her unlike the other victims is her illness: she has a liver cancer.'

'Sorry to hear it. Do you think our man rejected her for that?'

'It would have been logical he had killed her anyway. Predators tend to kill the weak and sick. A cancer shouldn't have stopped him.'

Hannibal brooded about it.

'Cancer affects meat. Organs are often a delicacy for predators and we cannot forget that our murderer leaves only the bones of their victims.'

'It is logical to conclude that he devours them. But a human body, organs and all, is too much for a single predator. What he does with all that meat?'

'Maybe he's feeding his family. That supposed daughter we're talking about could also be a werewolf, have you thought about it? At the end of the day, Lycanthropy is genetic: the condition it's hereditary in the 50% of the cases.'

'You are right.'

Dr. Lecter nodded and rose from the couch to go for the lunch boxes. He returned and gave Will his, together with a fork: both boxes contained a sumptuous breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage. Each placed his on his lap and began to eat.

'Do you think we might have more than one predator in this case?' Hannibal inquired curiously.

'It's possible. But only one of them is killing or at least that's what the evidences tell us.'

'We haven't found many evidences. With so little information, it's easy to go wrong.'

'Yes. But in this case, I am very sure our man kills alone. Although, it's certainly plausible he's using the meat of those girls to feed his family. Especially if he's not the only werewolf in the house.'

'It would be the most practical way to get rid of the meat.'

Will was at that time about to take a sausage to his mouth and hearing Dr. Lecter's words, he stopped. He had suddenly lost his appetite. He slowly lowered the fork, put it inside the lunch box and left it aside, placing it on a small table beside the sofa.

Seeing that, Hannibal watched him surprised.

'Aren't you going to eat anything else?'

'No, sorry, I've had enough.'

'If my comment has bother you...'

'No, it's... never mind, forget it. It's not your food's fault: it's very good.'

Hannibal watched him. He studied the brooding expression on his face, the way his lips twitched unconsciously, as if the young man were dealing with a fateful memory.

Sympathetic, he leaned toward him to speak:

'Will, this case affects you and it's normal. You has spent years away from service and your last experience with a werewolf was traumatic. Directly, it costs you your career.'

'It cost me more than that.' he replied, pursing his lips at the memory. 'But you already know that, you would have read my file.'

'I had to do, it's part of my job: to consult the sources to know the history of my patients. But I don't let myself be influenced by the information I consulted. I prefer to consider the version of the person in question. I think this is better.'

Will looked up to the psychiatrist. He found understanding in his brown eyes. He nodded, agreeing with him.

'Tell me, how Jack recruited you for my therapy?' he asked after a moment. The truth was he was curious about it.

'A colleague of mine recommended me: Dr. Bloom.'

'Alana Bloom!?'

Seeing his expression of surprise, Hannibal looked at him strangely.

'Do you know her?'

'Yeah, she... I... we met some time ago.' he declared. In sunlight, he almost seemed flushed. 'Alana had just graduated from college and I was still in the Brigade.'

'Are you friends?' Hannibal asked, suspecting that there was something more than his partner didn't want to tell him.

'Well, the truth is we haven't seen each other since... it has been at least a year and a half. I know little about her, except what I have read in the newspapers.'

'She has married the Verger heiress, Margot. I guess you know who I mean.'

Will nodded.

'Mason Verger's sister: she managed to put his brother in prison proving he was a pedophile and he had abused hundreds of children for years, including her.' he grimaced at the thought. 'A bloody sadist. He died a year ago, I think.'

'They say it was a brawl of prisoners.'

'Yes, they say that.'

They both knew that wasn't true. The expression "brawl of prisoners" could be applied as a euphemism in certain cases. Everyone knew how much appreciated were pedophiles in prison.

'So both know Alana.' Hannibal said, after a pause. His lips curled in a brief smile. 'It's a pleasant surprise, so far I didn't imagine you and I could had acquaintances in common.'

'How do you know her?'

'I was his mentor at college: Alana was, and still is, a young woman with an intelligence above the average, an excellent professional... and very beautiful.'

'Yes. All that is true.'

Will just smiled a smile. There were bittersweet memories in that gesture, the ghost of a shared and lost intimacy. A touch of nostalgia, even.

Hannibal looked away and decided to focus on his scrambled eggs.

 

 

 

'If you don't mind, give me your jacket, please.'

Will obeyed and Hannibal hung it on the rack by the door. They were in Dr. Lecter's office, where they had come at seven-thirty to begin their first therapy session. It had been a long day at work and Will'd rather be elsewhere, particularly in his house of Wolf Trap, with his dogs... but he had to comply with the protocol.

'Sit down, please.' Hannibal gestured to the two chairs that were in the middle of the room, facing each other.

Both sat and Will quickly looked away, running his eyes over the room in an attempt to delay the inevitable: his eyes fixed on the red-painted walls, the elegant wooden furniture, the fireplace, the shelves full of books...

'You have a very elegant office, doctor.'

'Thank you.'

'Have you read all those books?'

'Only a few of them.' he smiled reassuringly and waited patiently until the other man was ready to face him. 'Do you want to start?'

Will sighed, resigned.

'Ok.'

'How old were you when you joined the police?'

'Twenty-two, I had just graduated in Criminology.'

'Did you always wanted to be a policeman?'

'It's an honest work.' he claimed. Finally, he admitted: 'Criminals have always attracted me, so I chose to study them.'

'To understand them.'

'And lock them up.'

'Of course.' he paused. 'Tell me about your first destination within the police.'

'I was sent to the Brigade. It's a popular department for rockies.'

'Did you like working with werewolves?'

'Yes. It was my best time... until I screwed up.'

'Please, tell me about it.'

Will didn't want to talk about that. He didn't want to tell him, even though he knew Lecter was already informed. All that appeared in his file. But if he wanted to hunt the murderer he would have to overcome - and support – the therapy, so...

'Before it happened, I had a good reputation within the Brigade: I was good at dealing with werewolves and, frankly, I liked to do. Sometimes we had to deal with someone who became uncontrolled or didn't want to collaborate in the control routine tasks. In such cases, often I was able to reassure them: I spoke with them and most of the time I can manage to solve the problem.'

'But that time you couldn't.'

'No.' he grimaced at the memory. 'He was too violent and I was too stupid. I relied too much on my skills. I stood in front of him, trying to calm him and he turned against us. He was stronger and more aggressive than we expected, also more foolhardy: when it ended, he had killed three of us. I was saved by a miracle.'

'And that was when you was disqualified.'

A shadow covered Will's face. He didn't want to think about that but the doctor's words brought him to mind very bad memories: the abandoned cinema, the lycanthrope cornered in one of the rooms... his shadow on the screen made him look like a giant. His eyes were a reddish amber and his mantle was black like coal. When he went after them the slaughter began...

'I was sent to offices.' he said, lowering his eyes to the ground. In those moments he couldn't look to the psychiatrist's eyes. 'I couldn't stand it, so less than a year later I resigned and went to the FBI. In the police all considered me responsible for what happened. I screwed up the operation because I believed myself better than others. I ended up in the Behavioral Sciences Unit with Jack and after a time as a field agent, I decided on teaching.'

'Why did you do that? Didn't you like your job?'

'I was stressed out. I had nightmares and trouble sleeping. It was hurting me, so I decided it was best to leave.'

'Do you feel stressed out now?'

'At this time?'

'With this case.'

'Yes,' he admitted, 'but I can handle it.'

A few seconds passed in silence as Hannibal took notes in a notebook that lay open on his lap. Soon, the psychiatrist spoke again:

'Have you ever afraid to fail, Will? As it happened in the Brigade?'

'Yes.'

'It's absolutely normal.' Hannibal granted. 'Stress and guilt are common companions, which with one must learn to cope. You are too hard on yourself: what happened was years ago and since then you has been punishing yourself for that. You must learn to accept your mistakes and move on.'

'Three men died because of me. They were my partners.'

'How old were you when it happened?'

'Twenty-five. By then, I had been three years in the Brigade.'

'Three years seem enough experience to you? Do you think a young twenty-five years old is exempt from making mistakes? Even the best, Will, even the veterans commit them. Sometimes those mistakes cost lives and we must learn to live with it.'

'That's easy for you to say.'

'You're a professional, Will. A very good professional, if I may use my opinion. Just yesterday I saw you get a traumatized girl, who has spent the last week in shock wordlessly, opened enough to communicate with us. And she gave us so valuable information.'

'It just was a confirmation of what we already thought.'

'Still, it was a succeed. And such confirmation has proved useful. Has it didn't help you to dispel doubts, to enter a little deeper into the psyche of the murderer? That couldn't have been possible if you didn't have your skills. You have and they are great. You shouldn't underestimated yourself in that way.'

Will frowned, puzzled by such praise.

'Are we doing therapy or are you giving me a course of self-esteem?'

'I'm just saying what I think is the truth, Will.'

'You hardly know me.'

'That's what therapy is for.' he looked at him pointedly. 'My duty is to deepen you during the development of the sessions, so both could get what we're looking for.'

'What are you looking for, doctor?' Will asked, intrigued.

'I've been hired to do your psychological evaluation. I have to get into your mind, know it well. Then I have to write a report about it. And you? What do you want, Will?'

'I must catch a murderer and I need your word to prove I am capable to do so.'

Hannibal nodded. Each had clear his objectives and they were already moving forward together to achieve them.

'We're on it.' he declared and an enigmatic smile of satisfaction curled his lips.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

They were sitting on the train, facing each other. They were traveling together to St. Paul to visit some universities. The man, in his forties, was tall and thin. He was balding and his inquisitive blue eyes looked around the wagon, looking for the right girl.

'Third seat, right next to the window.'

The girl who was with him, that until then had been immersed in her thoughts, looked up at him. He motioned for her to whirl around furtively and with a contrite expression, she did it without question.

The chosen one was a girl of her same age. Slender, dark hair and blue eyes. Just like her. They were always like her.

'Have I to do it?' she asked, looking unsure. 'I don't want, Dad. Cannot we just see those universities and go home...?'

'Abigail.' he held her by the wrist, fixing his gaze on her. 'Better her than you.'

The girl winced as he again pointed to the girl, with a subtle nod. She had no choice but to rise from her seat and approached to her. She tried to show her best smile. She had to look innocent and friendly. On the contrary...

'Hi.' she greeted, feigning a shyness she didn't feel. 'Is this seat free? Can I sit?'

'Of course.' the girl smiled kindly at her. She seemed a nice girl. 'Are you going to St. Paul?'

'Yes. I'm visiting some colleges.'

'Me too. Are you traveling alone?'

'Yes. My father was to come with me but... well, work prevented him.'

'What a pity. If you want, we can visit the coolleges together.' she offered.

'Really? Thanks, that would be great.'

'My name is Cynthia.'

'Abigail. Abigail Hobbs.'

'Nice to meet you, Abigail.'

She smiled at the girl and after a moment, when the other wasn't looking, she looked around the wagon to find his father. When she finally located him she nodded, communicating him without words that she had achieved her goal. He smiled at her, satisfied.

She would have given anything not to be there, not have to do that.  


 

 

Will's sessions in Dr. Lecter's office were extended to two per week for a month. The last one had just ended and Will was picking his briefcase from the chair when Hannibal's voice stopped him:

'Would you like a glass of wine?' he proposed and the agent looked at him with some surprise.

The relationship that had been established between them throughout those weeks was more than cordial, relaxed, like two people enjoying each other's company. In fact, Dr. Lecter had invited the agent on countless occasions but such invitations had been limited so far to prepare homemade food for two and share it together in Jack's office, or in the car when they had to travel for some reason concerning the case.

A glass of wine meant more privacy. Will had the strange feeling of being going a step further in his relationship with the doctor. He wondered if Dr. Lecter would be taking advantage of the fact that his work as a psychiatrist was over and they no longer relate strictly as doctor and patient. Maybe he was just being friendly. Maybe he wanted to bound with him...

Well, did that really matter? The idea of a drink at that hour, in good company, was a fairly desirable plan.

'I think it would be great.' he answered, leaving his briefcase again in the chair.

'Wait for me here, I'll be right back.'

Hannibal disappeared through the back door. He returned about ten minutes later, bringing with him two crystal glasses and a bottle of red wine.

'Do you often offer alcohol to your patients at unsociable hours, Doctor?'

The psychiatrist smiled at his ironic tone, as he poured him a glass.

'Actually, I only do it with those who I like and arouse my interest.'

'Oh, it's an honour, then. Tell me, do I interested you as an experiment or as a lab rat?'

Hannibal laughed a little.

'I appreciate your sense of humor, Will. It's a symbol of intelligence.'

'Most call it sarcasm. And they don't like it too much.'

'Seriously? What poor judgment.'

This time was Will who laughed. A sharp, crystal, overflowing joy laugh normally not exhibit by its owner. Hannibal watched him for a moment and hid his own smile taking a sip from his glass.

'Can I have a look at your library?' Will asked. 'I'm curious about it.'

'Of course. By my guest.'

'Thank you.'

The agent walked toward the shelves. He stoped in front of one and then was pacing in front of the other, leaning from time to time to check the title of a volume and sipping wine as he browsed. Hannibal watched him from a distance, without missing one of his movements.

'I see a lot of books about art, music, some biographies and treatises on medicine.'

'Art and music are part of my passions.' Hannibal confessed, as he came to him to fill his glass again.

'What other passions do you have?' Will asked, interested.

'I like cooking and opera. And you?'

'Fishing.' he replied, shrugging indifferently. 'It's not a very sophisticated activity but I love it.'

'I consider it a noble art. Are you a good fisherman, Will?'

'That I like to think.' he took a long sip, feeling the wine slid down his palate and loosening his tongue. 'When Alana and I were together, we used to spend weekends at my house in Wolf Trap. Sundays usually I go fishing and always brought with me some fish for lunch. I used to cook it with spices and herbs.'

'Do you like cooking?'

'I get by. My father taught me to prepare simple dishes and also I can cook some Cajun meals. My father and me were living in New Orleans for many years.' he said, as Hannibal looked at him interested.

'I would love that once we could share one of your dishes.'

'I could bring you some fish next week, if you like.'

'I took your word.' the doctor sentenced and they drank, ending all the content in their glasses.

Hannibal put the bottle - at that point empty - and glasses on a table nearby and covered the distance between them. Will had comfortably leaned against the ladder leading to the upstairs gallery, where there were more shelves.

'Were you and Alana together a long time?' he asked, trying not to disclose his interest.

'Five years.' he looked at him suspiciously. 'You don't seem surprised.'

'I've guessed it.'

'Is it so obvious?'

'Just a bit.'

'I understand. Alana left me for Margot Verger.' he confessed after a moment, to the surprise of Hannibal.

'Seriously?'

'Yes. It was a year and a half ago. There was no infidelity: Alana has always been an honest woman in that regard and I already knew she was bisexual. The issue of sexual orientation has never been a problem for me.'

'Still, it must have hurt you that the relationship was over.'

'It Did. But these things happen. And while I struggled with it in the past, I've already moved on.'

The doctor was silent a moment before daring to ask the question he had in mind:

'Do you still love her?'

Will shook his head.

'No, that's over. Sometimes I miss her but it's just nostalgia. We have not even come to see each other since she left me.'

Hannibal nodded sympathetically. The FBI agent stared at him.

'What about you, doctor? Do you have anything to tell?'

'What do you want to know?'

'Well, I have told you about Alana. Do you have anyone to talk about?'

The psychiatrist smiled just a smile. By nature, he preferred not to talk about his private life. And he knew by experience that Will wouldn't be the first to react badly if he talked him about his special relationship with Anthony. It was better not to take the risk... by now.

'The truth is I haven't had many stable relationships in my life. I don't like to be tied down.'

'A wolf cannot be encaged, right?' he looked at the doctor significantly and Hannibal remained silent.

'How have you known?' he asked a moment later, curious.

'Don't laugh but most of the time I can see it... the beast. It's in the eyes, you know? When a lycanthrope is transformed, his eyes never change. They are all that remains. And while still in human form, when I look at them, I can see the wolf. It doesn't always appear clearly but it's always there. Hanging around, waiting to show itself.'

Hannibal approached him, driven by his words. He wanted to show Will the beast he kept inside because he knew he would understand it: his experience with werewolves had taken him beyond the simple prejudices of society or the hatred and bigotry of their colleagues. He had worried about talking to those of his kind, about to know them and understand them. That said a lot in his favor.

'Can you see it now, the beast?'

Will nodded. Of course he could see it. It was right there in front of his eyes and behind the psychiatrist's: a powerful animal, hungry for flesh and blood, decidedly dangerous. The doctor blinked. He looked away for a few seconds and when he looked at the agent again, the wolf was gone. It was still there, of course, Will could perceived it. But it was not in sight.

'You mastered it very quickly.' the young man praised, surprised.

'It has been years of practice.'

'You born that way.' deduced Will and Hannibal nodded.

'It has taken me a lifetime to control my abilities. It's been a hard road but I flatter myself to tame the wolf better than anyone.'

'That's why, then.' he understood and watched him fascinated. 'You are always under control: your appearance, your office... I bet your house too. Everything neat and tidy. There is nothing out of place, nothing out of control.'

'I'm already used to it.'

'And you never gives? Never share at least some of that control?'

'Hardly.'

'Do you ever allow anyone to cross the line?'

'No.'

'Would you allow me to do it?'

'Yes.'

That was the truth, pure and simple. He had no reason to deny it. He had trusted Will from the beggining, although he couldn't explain exactly why. Often he wondered. He just felt relax and at ease with him. His presence acted as a kind of balm, making even the beast - usually wild and ferocious - calm down and enjoy the company. He didn't remember having felt that way with anyone. He had come to consider Will as an ally... kind of a safe haven.

The agent's hand moved to his chest, right over his heart. Both realized as the heartbeat increased its speed slightly. They looked into each other's eyes and spoke a conversation without words. They were given either do it and enjoyed it. Then Will leaned forward, as if he was going to kiss him and Hannibal remained where he was, opening his lips expectantly. He wanted to see how far the other man could go.

He kissed him on the cheek. An honest, warm... full of admiration kiss. It set fire inside the doctor and significantly accelerated the beating of his heart. Perhaps that was why the agent go down with his lips and started covering with kisses his jaw, while Hannibal threw his head back and unashamedly exposing his neck to him.

Will covered his partner nut with his mouth. He applied pressure with his teeth, without hurting him. It was an intimate caress, impossible to realize if there wasn't consent and trust between the two. The psychiatrist wasn't allowed it to anyone... but he had no problem to grant it to Will. Moreover, his hand tangled in those brown curls and forced its owner to throw his head back to return the caress. The young man groaned, a sound that had nothing to do with pain.

Hannibal stopped with his games and went straight for his partner's lips. Will corresponded him and he can kiss much better than the psychiatrist imagined. Hannibal placed both hands on the ladder, trapping the agent there, blocking any possible escape route.

The last thing Will thought at that moment was about to escape. His hands began to caress Hannibal's torso and also his back, up and down, to the point that the shirt became a nuissance for the psychiatrist. The agent's hand descended then to cover his partner's erection, feeling it grow between his fingers. He stroked it as they kissed, Hannibal being uncapable of stop kissing him, as he gently moved his hips to the rhythm that his hand marked to him.

The doctor was carried away to the end. He left everything in the hands of the man who, even without touching his skin directly, was doing him to touch heaven. Pleasure exploded for him with a hoarse cry against the lips of his partner and his whole body tightened, arching his back. The other man held him while he falling apart in spasms and hid his head in the crook of his neck, enjoying the feeling of being satiated.

'Sorry about your pants.' said Will in his ear after a moment and Hannibal laughed.

'Don't worry, I have more.'

They separated for a moment. The doctor reached out and stroked the agent's cheek with a twinkle in his eyes.

'What you have done to me has been incredible, Will. Thank you.'

'My pleasure.' he smiled and Hannibal felt thousands of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 'Would you mind doing the same for me?'

'You don't have to ask for.' the doctor said and approached him immediately to fulfill his wishes.

Will turned around. Hannibal's hands were direct to his trousers, unbuttoning the garment to introduce them underneath. One of his hands caressed the agent's stomach, the other his cock, stroking it with a mixture of firmness and tenderness while lavishing kisses and loving bites on his shoulder, neck and ear, sending delicious shivers that Will expressed by small, deep moans. They were like music to Hannibal's ears: he wanted this to last, he wanted to delay and intensify his partner's pleasure as much as possible. It would be a reward by the unique moments he was giving him. Will deserved it and the beast within him agreed... to be honest: the beast was wild at that point. Raging inside, claiming his prize possession. It wanted Will and it wanted him now.

But Hannibal wouldn't give him to it. Not for the moment.

Will reached his pleasure with his name on his lips. Hannibal embraced him until the spasms passed. Then he used his handkerchief to wipe them both and then buttoned his partner's pants with care, dropping a kiss between the curls of his hair. The agent smelled of sex, with a slight note of sweat and he could smell on him the scent of Virginia's woods...

Before the doctor himself could avoid it, his hands run across Will's body and his own body was guided by such a primitive as the world need, as it began rubbing against his partner for mark him with his scent.

Will realized what he was trying to do and tried to stop him:

'Hannibal, no. No... stop it. I don't want it, please. Stop... dammit, I've said no!' he got rid of him and stepped away from the ladder, looking at him as surprised as indignant.

The doctor watched the young man with a mixture of desire and confusion in his brown eyes.

'What's the problem?'

'What's the problem!? I have asked you to stop, didn't you hear me?'

'Sorry, it wasn't my intention...'

'Why have you tried to mark me?' he reproached him. 'I don't want your scent. We are not a couple.'

'But I thought...'

'It seems to me you are wrong.' he sighed, obfuscated, and went to pick up his briefcase from the chair. 'I don't know what you had in mind but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And there can be nothing like that between us because we are colleagues.' he looked at him, pursing his lips. He sighed. 'Look, what have just happened has been great, okay? And we cannot deny we both wanted it. But it cannot happen again. I am sorry. I hope you understand.'

Hannibal froze. After what they had done... now he came out with that nonsense!? He clenched both hands into fists at his sides.

'Sure. Of course I understand.'

Will sighed again. The tension in the air could be cut with a dull knife.

'I should go.'

And he left, leaving Hannibal alone to mend the broken pieces of his dignity. At such times, the doctor wanted to run after that ungrateful man and he didn't know if it was to strangle him or to finish what they had started on the ladder. He wondered how could Will do something like that to him. Didn't he realize!? He had put his trust in him, he had left him to take control and this is how he paid him back? Earning his trust, using him for sex - because he wasn't looking for a relationship, of course - and then putting him away like a vile tissue.

A deep growl escaped from his throat. Will had hurt him and he wouldn't forgive him easily.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

'This is unacceptable!' the director said and pointed outraged to Will, who was sat on a couch across the room. 'This man isn't qualified to work with werewolves: he was expelled from the Brigade years ago. There is an official report that disqualifies him from doing this job.'

'We have another report,' Jack replied, stoic, 'recently written by a prestigious psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who says Will is able to handle this case.'

'I want to talk to this psychiatrist.' the director demanded, with stony face.

'I'll give you his address.'

Jack opened the top drawer of his desk to take a business card and handed it to the director. Both clashed each other with their eyes. Will sighed to himself, at that time he just wanted the earth to swallow him.

He knew that sooner or later it had to happen. As soon as en the Brigade had learned who was the agent in charge of the case, they had screamed blue murder and complaints had not swift to act. That morning he had crossed the doorstep of the office to find Jack arguing loudly over the phone. That conversation had ended with his friend angrily stamping the handset against the apparatus. And just half an hour after Herman Cold, the director of the Special Brigade in person, had shown there to discuss the issue with his namesake.

'I will not accept this.' said the head of the Brigade. 'I think challenge Dr. Lecter's report.'

'As you wish. But while doing so, let me remind you that the report is valid and therefore the FBI will act accordingly.'

'You're making a big mistake, agent Crawford.'

'With all due respect, I don't think so.' he pointed his finger at Will. 'I know this man since he came into my unit, more than ten years ago. He has always been a competent agent and has never given me any problems. His share of solved cases is 99%.'

'Wait and see.' Cold huffed, pursing his lips. 'Graham also had a great share in the Brigade and we all know how it ended. For your own sake I hope you don't have to pay your overconfidence with the lives of your agents, Mr. Crawford.'

Jack gave him a black look.

'This conversation is over, Mr. Cold.'

The director of the Brigade rose from his chair, barely containing a snort. He left the office angrily, givin Will a look of contempt when he passed him.

Nothing close the door, Jack huffed and started swearing.

'I told you to give me this case would cause you problems with the Brigade.' Will said, in a tone of apology.

'That man lives in the past.' his friend complained. 'That incident occurred over a decade ago.'

'My stupidity cost the lives of three men. They were good officers, family men.'

'They had a dangerous job, Will. Any werewolf could have killed them, even being off duty.'

'But it wasn't any werewolf, it was mine: I tried and I failed. The death of these men is my fault. The Brigade has every right to despise me.'

'They can do whatever they want but you'll still be in charge of this case. Until a competent court hasn't decided Dr. Lecter's report is wrong, this will remain valid. And I don't want to hear another word about it, understand?'

'As you like.'

Will sighed again. Jack only saw his own convenience: while he could help him to close the case, he didn't care what might happen. He was playing with fire by putting him in charge of that case, just allowing him to work on it. They both knew but Jack preferred to ignore it.

He wished they hadn't to pay the price for that.  


 

 

'Mr. Cold.' Hannibal opened the door of his office to let the agent come in. They had been contacted by phone just one hour before and they had set that appointment, taking advantage of a gap in the agenda of the psychiatrist. 'Welcome.'

'Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Dr. Lecter.'

'Thank you for coming.' he gestured toward the chairs of therapy and both took their seats.

'I'll be brief because I understand we're both busy men.'

'You will say.'

'You have written a report recently on Will Graham.' Hannibal nodded. 'What led you to think that guy was fit to return to work with werewolves? Are you aware of his past?'

'If you mean his time in the Brigade, yes, I am aware of what happened: I've consulted his file and Mr. Graham and I have worked on it during our sessions.'

'And after having killed three men, yet you think Graham is prepared to deal with a case like that?' he snorted in disgust. 'The FBI has refused to pass us on the torch, even though they are required by law to do so.'

'The decisions that agent Crawford made at work are not my concern.' alleged Hannibal, indifferent. 'I'm just a psychiatrist that the FBI has temporarily contracted to perform a psychiatric evaluation and to help them in what I can with certain aspects of this case.'

The director pursed his lips.

'A psychiatrist is right for Graham but not in this context.'

'Will Graham doesn't suffer from any mental illness, Mr. Cold.'

'I agree: the arrogance and stupidity of that man are innate. What surprises me is that you haven't noticed as you treated him. The Brigade's Psychologist made it clear in his report...'

'That report is a decade old.' Hannibal interrupted him irritably. The dominant attitude and derogatory ways of that man began to upset him. 'I've treated Mr. Graham during the last month and I can assure you he is suitable for the job. The case is not in danger being in his hands.'

'I disagree.' he huffed. 'Is there any chance you change your report? You must know you are putting lives at stake, doctor. Nobody will thank you when Graham messed up again and if some agent die in the process, you will lose all credibility as a professional... and your licence could be revoked, depending on the situation.'

'You're assuming that there will be negative consequences, Mr. Cold. My professional judgment tells me that there is no danger in Will Graham back to work with lycanthropes. Indeed, if I had made the report ten years ago, I would have exposed all aspects of the case and not only those that pertain to Mr. Graham.'

The director looked at him with a frown.

'What are you insinuating?'

'I'm not insinuating anything. But Will Graham was a mere agent when it happened. He didn't even reached his thirties and he just had three years as a member of the Brigade. The head of his squad, however, was a veteran agent with decades of work behind him. He was responsible for the security of his men, not Mr. Graham. Surely a wise man in his circumstances would have decided to rely more on his own judgment and on the Brigade's security protocols, rather than in the good reputation of one of his agents.'

Cold paled. His cheeks were stained with indignation and he rose from the chair immediately.

'How dare you!? You ignorant cheap shrink...!'

'Mind your language, Mr. Cold. I won't consent you to insult me. Just in case you've forgotten, this is my office not yours. Here I dictated the rules.'

A bit of authority in his voice, that was all, and the director got the message. He was clearly used to rule over others, not vice versa. He snorted angrily.

'Listen, doctor: I came here hoping to reason with you and make you realize you should change the conclusions of your report...'

'That's not going to happen. I'm Sorry you've lost your time chasing an impossible. Now, if you do not mind, I think you should go: both have business to attend to.'

'Don't worry, I don't bother you anymore. But you must know I'm going to challenge your report.'

'You have every right, if you think I'm wrong about something.'

'Of course you are wrong! You and Jack Crawford, you two are so arrogant you don't realize where you are getting into.'

'I cannot speak for agent Crawford but I know exactly where I'm standing.'

'Yes? Well, we'll see how much you can hold up.' he turned angrily toward the exit. 'You will hear from me, doctor.'

'Goodbye, Mr. Cold.'

The director disappeared with a bang. Hannibal sighed, trying to calm down. He was angry with the man but also with himself: he shouldn't have reacted that way. Furthermore, he shouldn't have reacted that way for the reasons why he had done.

He snorted, berating himself. Damm Will Graham! He used him as a handkerchief, hurt his pride and dignity with his contempt and when someone dared to attack or insult him somehow, he wanted to rip the head whoever was with his claws. How stupid of him! Will doesn't deserve it. And he was not his protector, by the way...

He rose from the chair and began to walk around the office, trying to temper his mood. He mustn't let that ungrateful man piss him off again. He had already laid his plan for revenge against him and that was what really mattered. His report was just the beginning: Will Graham was able to work successfully in that case but it would be a constant source of stress and anxiety for him and that would be his punishment. In addition to the treatment of indifference he was going to apply him, so he knew what it meant to be nothing more than a dispensable resource for someone.

All the affection and attraction which had developed between them during that month; their shared moments of affinity; the trust he had placed in him blindly... Will Graham wouldn't trample all of this again. He wouldn't allow him to break his heart one more time with his coldness.

No way.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Will was in Jack Crawford's office when Hannibal arrived that morning. He wore one of his elegant three-piece suits, beige this time. With his polished shoes and his hair neatly combed, the psychiatrist was stunning. He entered the office gracefully and didn't gave a glance at Will Graham, although the agent didn't take his eyes off him, seeking his attention.

It had been two days since his last encounter in the doctor's office and since then their relationship hadn't been the same. The FBI agent had had time to think about what happened and the night before he had tried to talk to the doctor to fix things. He phoned him several times and got no answer. He gave up the sixth attempt and sighed thinking he had blundered, that he had offended Hannibal unintentionally.

If the doctor would consent to give him a chance to explain himself...

'Good morning, Dr. Lecter.' greeted Jack, standing behind his desk.

'Good morning, Jack.'

'Will and I were about to go down to the lab.'

'Have you found any clues about the case?' he asked, curious.

'Apparently.' he said and smiled a triumphant smile. 'Miss Katz will put us up to date. If you want to get down with us...'

Hannibal nodded and they leave the office. Will was behind the doctor and tried to talk to him on the way but the psychiatrist deliberately ignored him. He was punishing him with his indifference, acting as if he was not there... or as if his presence cared so little that it didn't deserve to be noticed.

Will began to get angry. He was trying to apologize but the doctor didn't let him. He was behaving like a child: arrogant, spiteful... all that just because he had refused to let him mark him. What did he expect? They have known a month ago and as fas as they had come was to exchange handjobs in his office. That made them a couple? No, of course not. Even Hannibal himself had told him he didn't want a formal relationship because he didn't like to feel bound. What the hell he wanted then!? What was his game?

He was being very unfair...

They met in the laboratory with Beverly: Will frustrated, Hannibal with his still wounded pride and Jack without realizing anything. The expert forensic received them all with a smile and pointed out to a gray small particle she had left in the middle of a glass tray on the table in front of her.

'I extracted this from the nightgown of the eighth victim.' she explained. 'It's metal: I have analyzed it and I have found that this kind of material is often used in construction.'

'Our man is a contractor?' mused aloud Jack.

'Or a worker.' said Will. 'How many works can be now active in that particular area of Minnesota?'

'Several, unfortunately.' pointed Beverly. 'But I have gone further: I researched the company that supplies the material in the works that are now in St. Paul and surrounding area and it happens that it's the same for all of them. I have cross-checked the dates of the murders with shipments of the material and I have obtained a recipient in particular.'

'Have you narrowed down the list to one?' Will marveled.

'Exactly.'

'Good work, Miss Katz.' praised Jack.

'A prodigious one, indeed.' confirmed Hannibal.

'Thank you.' she give them a printed sheet of paper. 'Here is the address of the work.'

'Pay them a visit, you both.' ordered Jack, collecting the sheet from Beverly hands and giving it to Will. 'Take a look at the lists of staff and see what you can find.'

'Okay.' he turned to Hannibal. The psychiatrist looked away, pissing him off with his arrogance. 'If Dr. Lecter deigns himself to accompany me...'

'Of course. This clue could help us to solve the case.' he finally nailed his brown eyes on him. His look was haughty, like Will's. But when he spoke, he made in a softly, contained voice: 'I am one of those who think that things must be given the importance they have. Don't you think, agent Graham?'

'Of course, Dr. Lecter. You and I are of one mind.'

'I'm glad. Because some people are simply unable to take anything seriously. They prefer to treat life as if it were a game, without any respect.'

'Yeah. Some people just don't like to feel tied down, right?'

Hannibal stopped, trapped in his own words. Will walked around to leave the laboratory and, after an initial moment of confusion, the psychiatrist turned on his heels and followed him. Jack watched they both as they walked away, frowning. Finally he sighed – he had no time for nonsense. If there were any problems between them, then they must resolve on their own - and he also went underway.

'What the hell was that?' Brian Zeller asked, appearing by surprise at Beverly's back, just as his boss crossed the exit doors.

'I have no idea.' she said. 'It was... weird.'

'It was a lover's quarrel.' sentenced Jimmy Price, meeting them by the table.

'Do you think so?' the young Asian woman turned to face him.

'Absolutely, dear.'

'Whatever had happened between those two, it has been intense... and had ended badly.' Zeller said, wincing.

'Well, it's better don't interfere.' said Beverly. 'Come on, guys, we have work to do.'

'I say they will have made up in a week.' Zeller argued.

'I say in two.' pointed Price. 'We bet twenty dollars?'

'Deal.' they nodded and both were quick to take money out of their pockets.

'What are you doing?' Beverly intervened, looking at them surprised. 'Are you betting with the private lives of others? Shame on you. You have no right to do that.' she scolded them. 'You're a pair of busybodies, you both. What a shame for the FBI forensic team...' both men lowered their heads, embarrassed. Without being seen, she took two bills from her pocket and looked at them very seriously. 'Twenty-five to they make up within a month.'

'Deal!' the two men chanted in unison, raising their heads with a smile.

Zeller took charge of the money and he put it in a inner pocket of his jeans, until it came time to pay the winner. Once the bet was closed, the three returned to work.  
  


 

 

'I wish we could put an end to this.' Will said, while they traveled in Hannibal's car to Minnesota. The doctor was driving and his eyes never left the road, as if he was traveling alone. Will snorted, frustrated. 'You cannot ignore me a lifetime, you know?'

'I'm not ignoring you.'

'Liar. What then has been you doing during these two days?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I called you six times last night and you didn't answer.'

'I'd be busy or sleeping. If you need me, you can make an appointment at my office.'

The agent was livid. His blue eyes widened. He couldn't believe so much contempt and insolence by the psychiatrist.

'So that's it!' he snapped, angry. 'Is that going to be your attitude with me from now on? Will you treat me as if I weren't there and punish me with your contempt, just because I told you no in your office?' facing the icy silence of the psychiatrist, the young man snorted again. 'You are a spiteful spoiled brat, did you know? You dare to judge me because I don't want the same as you but all that I wanted as I rejected you was don't spoil things between us and don't hurt you. Well, it's over! I'm not going to be considerate with you if you are not with me too. You must know I have the right to refuse to whoever I want and I can sleep with whom I please. You are not one to decide about my private life.'

'That's not my intention.' he said, lips pursed and eyes on the road.

'But you're doing it and I know you are fully aware of this. You damn hypocrite!' he blurted. 'First you tell me you don't like to tie down in relationships and then you get angry because I don't leave you mark me. Are you crazy or what!? What do you expect from me?'

'Calm down.' he gave him an angry look, only for a few seconds, before setting his eyes back on the road. 'You are taking things out of context.'

'Am I? Okay, Dr. Lecter, explain me what is exactly that context.' the psychiatrist remained silent. Will huffed. 'Oh, come on, what happens to you? You don't know how to explain it?'

'You are being flippant.' warned Hannibal, tensely. 'If such behavior persists, I will be forced to ask you to leave the car.'

'You wouldn't dare to do it.'

Hannibal sighed, it could be said he let out the air from his lungs with a snort.

'Don't make me talk about what I dare or not dare to do, Mr. Graham. Don't you try my patience.'

Will huffed in turn. He looked away from the psychiatrist to focus on the road.

'Ok. If that's what you want, okay. From now on our relationship is purely professional... as it should never cease to be. I'm so sorry for what happening between us in your office, doctor. If I could turn back time, I would do to stop it. I regret it happened.'

The doctor's hands tightened on the steering wheel tightly. His knuckles turned white but Will didn't notice because he wasn't looking. Hannibal could feel the anger coursing through his veins and was the spite which made him speak, settling the issue once and for all:

'Don't worry, agent Graham. What happened between us would never happen again.'  
  


 

 

 

'Dad.' Abigail handed the phone to him. 'It's for you.'

Mr. Hobbs took it from her daughter's hands, as she walked away to finish setting the table. His wife moved from side to side of the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

'Hello?'

'They know.' said a voice on the other side. A serene male voice which, although being unknown for him, he knew exactly what it meant.

'Who are you?' he asked, frowning.

'Consider me an ally.'

He hung. Mr. Hobbs stared at the phone, dumbfounded.

'Who was?' asked Louise, his wife.

'It was the work.' he said, as he hung up the phone and his eyes wandered around the room frantically.

His daughter had disappeared. Surely she would be in her room, looking for his backpack or her jacket before going to school...

'Abigail, you'll be late!' called Mrs. Hobbs. 'Go down to breakfast!'

'I'm coming, Mom!'

The voice of his daughter untied the last knot of sanity in Mr. Hobbs' mind. The unknown man was right, they knew it. They were looking for him. Soon they would come and lock him up, taking him away forever from Louise and Abigail, his beloved Abigail...

With the nearest kitchen knife he sliced the throat of his wife, as she passed him. Louise didn't even notice, she could hardly make a sound before the blood began to flow gushing from her neck slashed open. She looked at her husband for the last time with marked surprise on her face, before he dragged her by the hair to the entrance to hide her body from his daughter's eyes.

An unknown car ran through the driveway of the house just at the moment he pulled Louise at the door. He froze next to his wife's dying body, enough to see two men get out of the vehicle, one of them brandishing a gun:

'Garret Jacob Hobbs, FBI!' shouted the man as he pointed at him.

He ran back into the house while the armed agent fired. He returned to the kitchen running, hearing behind him the footsteps and cries of the man who identified himself as a policeman and had come to arrest him... to kill him, no doubt.

Abigail stepped on the kitchen at the precise moment he crossed the arch that separated it from the hall. She saw the knife, the blood, his cornered beast eyes...

When the FBI agents entered the kitchen, they found him retaining Abigail by force, holding the knife blade against her neck and about to slicing it, gathering the strength to kill her as she wept, confused and terrified, begging him not to do it.

'Don't come, stay away!' he shouted to the police.

'Drop the knife' the armed agent walked a few steps closer, cautious. The other, who appeared to be unarmed, stood behind him watching everything without his face vary. 'Mr. Hobbs, please, I know you don't want to do it. You love her, she's your daughter. You has done everything for her, to keep her...'

In less than a second, everything broke: as in a dream, the knife began to slide down Abigail's neck; she screamed in pain and fear; and the FBI agent fired, hitting him squarely in the right shoulder. The impact of the bullet pushed him away from Abigail, sending him against the counter and causing him to lose the knife and falling sprawled on the floor.

With gunpowder, fear and adrenaline pumping through his veins, he heard from afar his daughter's cry. He watched as the policeman put away his gun and approached to her, comforting her, telling her that everything had happened, that she was safe.

He was taking her with him, pulling her off of him forever...

The beast suddenly released itself, ready to fight and keep what belonged to him. It caught him by surprise and also the agents and Abigail herself, who shouted scared as she took refuge in the arms of the taller of the two men.

'Take her out of here.' ordered to his partner the man who had shot him while he put both of them away from view, standing as a shield between him and them.

'Will don't be silly. You cannot fight him yourself...'

'Take her out.' he removed them both from the kitchen by force, trying to make them safe.

'Will, no. Listen to my, I'm not leaving. I'm not... Will!'

The beast pounced on him, nailing his teeth fiercely in his throat, right in the hollow where the neck joined the shoulder. The agent fell with a scream, while his partner watched it all with an expression of amazement... or was it horror what was seen in his eyes?

He didn't care. All that mattered was the here and now: the screams of his prey while ripping, Abigail's sobs of panic, the blood...

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

He had washed his hands thoroughly and yet he still felt the weight of blood on them. That thick texture, that metallic smell...

When Will fell under the jaws of the beast, his instinct moved him to act immediately: he put Abigail aside and the girl ended up huddled in a corner, trembling with fear. Then he went after Hobbs. He attacked him with his bare claws, without being fully transformed yet retaining his predator attributes: it was something he could do if he wished and at that time he wanted more than ever to save his partner. Therefore he harassed Hobbs without giving him quarter, facing him until he stayed away from Will and flee in terror from the room toward the back yard.

Then he closed the kitchen door and focused all his attention to save his friend.

Now, sitting in a chair beside Will's bed in the hospital, he discovered the fear has never left him: the kitchen scene came back to his mind again and again, he couldn't forget it. Will's blood draining from his fingers as he tried in vain to stop the bleeding, his eyes... that blue eyes fixed on him, losing consciousness and brightness as life was slipping him through the wound.

The doctors who had attended Will agreed: his quick action had saved his life. However, none of them knew which had also been his actions that had been about to kill him.

He had alerted Hobbs to flee. Not only because he wanted him to be saved and thus avoid the fate the law reserved lycanthropes in his situation - in the best case he would be locked up for life in a maximum security institution, at worst he would be executed for his crimes - but because he wanted to punish his partner. He was so furious with him after the argument they had had in the car...

What had he done? He was so stupid! His revenge had been about to kill Will, to make him lost him for good. That wasn't what he wanted. He had only intended to hurt him, nothing else, disrupt his lovely case like the child who disrupts the sandcastle of his friend because he has offended him in someway.

That was his nature, puerile and vindictive. But this time it had taken him too far and he wasn't proud of what he had done. Actually, he'd give anything to be able to apologize to Will and fix things but he knew he couldn't tell him what he had done because he would repudiate his actions. Much more when he awakened and checks to the consequences of what happened to him...

The agent began to stir slowly under the sheets. He was waking up. He opened his eyes slowly and the first thing he saw was the psychiatrist's face.

'Hannibal.' he muttered, in a low tone that made his name sounded sweeter to his ears.

'Will.' the doctor rose from his chair to go to him. 'How are you feeling?'

'Stunned.' he replied and swallowed with a grin. 'I have dry mouth, can you give me some water, please?'

Hannibal nodded and hurried to fill a plastic cup in the water dispenser that were beside the bed. Then he returned to maneuver with the small remote control to raise his partner to a height that was convenient for him. Then he gave him something to drink, slowly, until Will was sated.

'Thank you.' the young man didn't take his eyes off him, as he left the glass on the nightstand. 'You saved me. You managed to scare off Hobbs.'

'I had to do it. He would have killed you, if I hadn't intervened.'

'Thank you for that.' he looked grateful and a second later, he scowled with concern. 'How is the girl, Hobbs' daughter?'

'Abigail: she is in Port Haven. She will need therapy, I'm afraid. For now, she is being treated as a victim.'

'She has been through hell.' he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. 'We must protect her, doctor: his father will come back for her.'

'I know. And Jack Crawford too, that's why he has provided her protection.'

'He'll wait for the next full moon.' Will predicted. 'It's within a month. He will wait until he spare and fit to go after her.'

'I'm sure the FBI will do its best to prevent him from reaching her.'

'I hope so.'

There was a pause of silence between them. Will closed his eyes again and for a few seconds he was dozing. Hannibal let him rest, as he gathered the courage to break the news:

'Will, doctors who treated you have entered you in the registry. They are legally required to do so...'

'I know. I knew they would: I'm aware of the protocol.'

'Are you upset for what happened to you?'

'No. I knew what would happen at the moment Hobbs bit me. I've seen it before.' he opened his eyes sleepily and looked at the serious face of his partner. 'Don't worry about me, doctor. I think deep down I have always wanted this to happen: if I'm honest, I've always felt closer to werewolves than humans. I envied them because despite all the drawbacks of their condition, they are free... or they should be... if we let them be.'

'Many think we must control werewolves beause they are creatures too dangerous to be left to roam. That's why the protocol was created: the Special Brigade, the register for lycanthropes, the medical treatment of the disease...'

'Werewolves are no more dangerous than you or me. In fact, if you think about it, it remains an irony: one has made me, the other has saved me. And both are werewolves. What about that, Doctor?'

'I agree with you, Will, it's an irony.'

'Yes, it is.'

'If you need it,' he offered, after a pause, 'I lead a therapy group for people in your same situation. You can go there anytime and we will be delighted to welcome you.'

Will sighed.

'They will force me to go to therapy, anyway. I must be keep under control: it's the law.'

'I know. So I try to help you.'

'Don't you hate me for hurting your feelings anymore?'

'Don't be ridiculous. That has nothing to do with it. Besides...' he admitted, 'I'm not angry anymore.'

'The fact that I has been about to die in your arms have some influenced on it, I guess.'

'It's silly to go mad, Will. We're partners. What happened between us in my office...'

'I hurt you and I'm sorry. It was not my intention.'

'I know. And you don't have to apologize, you mostly hurt my pride. Anyway, after some thought, I realized I also messed up: you were right. We hardly know each other and despite we are very close, I had no right to deeper our relationship without your consent. That was extremely inconsiderate of me and you had every right to refuse. I should be more understanding, sorry.'

'What happened in the ladder was intense.' he recalled and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

'Yes.'

'I lied about being repent of it: I don't regret anything. I really wanted to do it. If I had the opportunity, I would have come to the end.'

'Me too.'

'That's why group therapy is not a good idea.' he sigh. 'I thank you very much for your offer but it wouldn't work, doctor: one cannot focus on his therapy if the only thing he can think about is sleeping with his therapist.'

'Will...'

'I'll have to find another professional...'

'Doctor Lecter. Will.' Jack Crawford made an appearance in the room, interrupting their conversation. He walked up to them with a serene expression that hid his concern for his friend and former protégé. 'How is our patient?'

'He's okay.'

'He's drugged.' Will protested.

'Yeah, well, that's normal. They had to put many drugs in your body to heal you.'

'Are you going to stay?' Hannibal asked, trying to keep his tone didn't sound rude. 'I say this because, if you don't mind, I must return to my office.'

'Of course, doctor. Thank you for everything you did.' he shook his hand, sincerely grateful. 'Without your intervention, Will wouldn't be alive.'

The psychiatrist nodded and after saying goodbye to them briefly, he turned to leave. When he had barely crossed the doorstep, he stopped and turned to address his partner:

'Will, in relation to the therapy...' he licked his lips in an instinctive gesture, feeling nervousness and anticipation at the same time. 'I'm sure we can find a way.'

The agent looked at him, his blue eyes languid because of the drugs that kept him healthy and desinhibited his behaviour.

'I know.'

That sounded like a promise and maybe that's why he decided to leave as soon as possible. On the way to the elevator, he was aware his cheeks were burning.  
  


 

 

Dr. Lecter got home about an hour later. He crossed the hall to the kitchen, intending to prepare a light dinner before going to bed...

'Hannibal.'

The voice took him by surprise. He stopped and turned his face to the place the voice came, seeing the dark man sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand. The glass was almost empty, so he must have been there waiting for a while.

'Anthony. Sorry, I hadn't seen you.'

'That's obvious.' he smiled. His eyes glittered funny, highlighting on his pretty face while the man rose from the couch to join him. 'Is there something wrong?' he asked curiously. 'I've been calling you all afternoon and you haven't answered me.'

'Sorry, I was busy.'

'A patient?'

'A colleague. Will Graham: he have been injured during an arrest and he is in the hospital. I've been keeping him company.'

'Is he okay?'

'Yes, more or less.'

'I didn't know you were working with the police.'

'Is the FBI.'

'Ah. And that colleague of yours... do you care about him?'

'Why are you surprised?'

'Because it's not normal.' he said. 'We both know how much it costs you to bound, Hannibal.'

'It's hard for me but not impossible.'

'Lately you have been acting a little weird.' he watched him carefully. 'You have been moody, elusive, quiet... is for the moon? Lycanthropes ared affected by the proximity of the full moon.'

'Not only a cause of the moon.' he admitted and walked as usual to a small built-in bar nearby, where he served himself a drink.

'You like that man. And you must like him so much, so you are behaving that way. It's not your usual character.'

'I know.'

'Have you told him about us?' he asked, after a pause.

'No.'

'Why not? That way you could let him know he has a chance... if he is interested, of course.'

'He is. But I don't know what he could think about us. Sometimes I prefer not to say it: not everyone take it in a good way, Anthony.'

'I understand. Do you want me to stay and keep you company?' he offered.

'Thanks but I'd rather be alone. I am sorry.'

'It's okay. Call me if you need something, okay?'

He nodded and heard Anthony's footsteps moving on the carpet, a second before he felt his lips pressed against his cheek. Anthony said goodbye to him and Hannibal watched him go away. The house remained then quiet and empty, except for his presence and his thoughts... thoughts that were just dedicated to Will Graham.

 


	8. Chapter 8

He was thin and medium height, just like him. He had brown hair like his but with delicious curls on his forehead and both sides of his ears. He has large and almond-shaped eyes, a well drawn mouth, a several days beard... he understood perfectly why Hannibal felt so attracted by such beauty.

'Good morning.' he greeted him with a friendly smile, standing at the foot of his bed. 'Will, right? Will Graham.'

The FBI agent looked at him, frowning.

'Who are you?'

'Anthony Dimmond. We don't know each other. I am Dr. Lecter's boyfriend.'

His blue eyes showed his surprise. Confused, he was on his guard immediately.

'Hey...'

'Calm Down. I'm not here to make a scene. I have come in peace. I just wanted to meet the man who makes Hannibal worry so much.' he gave him a look of admiration. 'I must admit that his taste never fails.'

'Excuse me but if you've come here only to tell me that...'

'I've come here to meet you, Mr. Graham, and to tell you that if you are as interested in Hannibal as he is in you, you have a clear field: Hannibal and I are an open couple.'

'Are you mocking me!?' he asked incredulously.

'Is it seem to you that I'm laughing?'

'Why are you doing this?'

'Because Hannibal has tried to hide you from me, so that means he likes you a lot. Until yesterday he had never told me about you and he was very concerned about what had happened to you. He doesn't usually worry about anyone other than himself. In addition, we have a rule why we always inform each other of those relationships that are more than occasional affairs. You know, to maintain honesty inside the couple and avoid surprises. However, this time he has kept his feelings to himself.'

'So what?' he looked at him with disgust. 'He didn't even told me that he had a boyfriend.'

'He hid it deliberately to avoid your rejection. Not everyone accept open couples, Mr. Graham.'

'I have no problem with them.'

'I'm glad.' he smiled slyly, watching him. 'I assure you that you are totally welcome in this.'

'Mr. Dimmond... although I'm flattered, I'm not interested in being with two men at once. One is enough for me, thank you.'

'It's a pity. You are handsome and intelligent, I knew you couldn't be perfect.'

'Nobody is.'

'Sure.'

'Hannibal knows you has come to see me?' he asked suspiciously. He was sure the psychiatrist wasn't sent him. That wasn't his style... was it?

'Hannibal knows nothing. If you can avoid it in the future, I would appreciate your didn't mention it to him. He wouldn't like to know that I have intervened in this.'

'Why you has done, then?'

'Because I was curious. And...' he smiled apologetically, shrugging. 'Don't blame me but I wanted to speed things up a bit. I have never supported delays, you know? My philosophy is: if you want something and the way is clear, why not reach out to catch it? Or, in this case, why not give it a little push, if that's what everyone wants?'

'I see.'

It was made a silence between them. They seemed to have nothing more to say, so Anthony finally retaked the word:

'I'm leaving now. It's been a pleasure, Mr. Graham. I hope not to have intruded too much. Au Revoir and good luck with Hannibal.'

'Goodbye, Mr. Dimmond.'

He left the room with his elegant figure and his air of a poet. He was a handsome man, no doubt. He seemed to be smart and sophisticated and apparently he was open-minded enough to give his partner the freedom he appreciated so much.

 _'Had Hannibal deigned to tell me sometime?'_ Will asked himself, pursing his lips. ' _Maybe he would have expected to get me first in his bed, or perhaps until the three were together between the sheets.'_

Well, what could be expected from a man who didn't want to bound to anyone? He has insisted in mark him with his scent but that could be just the usual for him: as one who opens a new hole in his belt or make a notch on the headboard of his bed. Anthony was his partner, sure he had marked him too. He probably marks anyone with whom he had sex. Was it unusual?

He snorted, remembering what happened in the ladder. Will Graham, nice way to make yourself a fool!

 

 

 

 

The little house stood lonely on a bend in the road, with its two floors built entirely of white wood. It was like the light of a lighthouse in the middle of the sea.

Will sighed to see it, grateful to be at home. He had argued with the doctors but finally his decision to check himself out of the hospital was imposed. Now he took a deep breath, gathering the necessary courage to start walking toward the house.

A pack of dogs received him at the porch, all barking and wagging their tails as a sign of joy. He couldn't help but smile as see them around him. His boys. They welcomed him.

'Have you missed me?' he asked them jovially, stopping to caress the dogs. He had missed that so much. They make him happy as anything else.

When they finally allowed him to stand up, he realized one of the dogs wasn't there. He looked around, looking for it and located it curled up in a chair, watching him intently cautious.

'Winston? Come here, boy. Come on, come here.' he held out his hand but was ignored deliberately. When he approached to the dog, it left the chair immediately and went almost running down his side, dodging him.

He saw the dog go down the porch steps and after a moment its bushy tail was lost around the corner of the courtyard. The agent frowned. He had feared that happen. He had feared more than anything to get home because dogs, like any animal, were able to recognize the wolf within the person and they used to avoid or attack him, trying to remove him from what they considered the pack and their domains. He had felt relieved when his boys greeted him with such joy and love. However Winston, the wildest of all, had reminded him that things were not as before... and they never be again.

 _'He needs time.'_ he said himself. ' _With patience..._ _he's_ _going to have to get used to.'_

He grimaced and turned away, getting into the house. The first thing he did was check the bowls of the dogs in the kitchen, whose content was acceptable but had rather diminished since he left them before going to work, two days ago. He thought fill them the next morning, when they surely would dawn empty.

He passed the bowls and went straight to the refrigerator. He opened it and took out on of the pack's bottle of orange juice. He left it on the counter, as he put next to it the small bag given to him in the hospital. It contained the medication he would take regularly every day from now on, like clockwork. He slid the zipper and started placing the serum tubes - in appearance, it could be confused with insulin vials - and syringes in a safe place, where they were well chilled without being frozen.

During his stay in the Brigade he had memorized the names of all those drugs, to recognize them when he checked in the registry for whom it had been prescribed, by what doctor, and if their owners was taking them properly. When he did, he always imagined how would feel the werewolves who were forced by law to take them on penalty of being placed in an institution for the rest of their lives or, in the worst case...

He closed the refrigerator door, disgusted, and went straight for the juice. After opening it, he took a long drink and leaned back against the counter.

He had three problems that occupied his attention at that moment but the fact was that he could only take charge of one of them. The rest were completely beyond his will: he could do nothing against the sick leave given to him in the FBI, which force him to stay home for a few days until the bosses decide his future, valuing his circumstances and everything what had happened. Jack was struggling to keep him in the case but the Brigade was pressing hard to remove him from it, especially after Hobbs had escaped; he neither could get rid of his new status as a lycanthrope. The wolfish blood now ran in his veins and nothing was going to make it stop. Drugs and routine checks he would have to bear in the future wasn't something he could choose... unless he want to be held or receive a forced euthanasia before he turned fifty, of course; as for the third issue, the only one which was in his hands and about he could decide freely, it had a full name: Hannibal Lecter.

What he must do with him? He had mulled over it since Anthony Dimmond's visit and still he had mixed feelings about it. Should he pay attention to Anthony and take the initiative? And then what? Open couples were very good but just if you were willing to share. He knew himself and knew there was no point to that. He wasn't prepared to make the sacrifice he would abide by the doctor's sentimental preferences.

Perhaps it was best forget about it. They could take advantage now that their relationship had stabilized after his last talk at the hospital to throw in the towel on time, before they both got hurt.

He finished the juice thoughtfully. By inertia threw the empty bottle into the dustbin and took another from the refrigerator. He opened it and drank, trying to alleviate the negation: being away from Lecter was the best by far, even if he didn't want to do it. What kind of future awaited them, if he wasn't able to give him the freedom he needed? Did he intended to obligue Hannibal to be faithful to him, when the doctor himself had told him he didn't like to be tied down and his relationship with Anthony confirmed it?

 _'It wouldn't work.'_ he thought, taking another sip of juice. ' _It's his choice. Take it or leave it, that simple.'_

The third possible option was tempting, though he knew beforehand it wouldn't be satisfactory. In addition, his pride rejected it. He didn't want to be second fiddle. Even so...

He sighed. It wasn't a good idea.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dr. Lecter parked his vehicle off the road, behind one of the Bureau's cars.

He got out of it and looked curiously at the vacant lot around him, where the only visible house on several miles around was an old abandoned farm. On the ground, several FBI agents and laboratory technicians moved and standing among them was Jack Crawford, who supervised the searching with stony face, just a few meters ahead.

'Good morning, doctor.' he greeted when he came to him. He looked annoyed and tired.

'Good Morning. Your message said you had found something. Is the ninth victim?'

'Yes.' he pursed his lips. 'Forensic experts have already retired the bones and they are analyzing them.'

'Have you got an identification?'

'They are on it.' he sighed and ran his hand through his short graying hair. 'We had our man and he escaped. Dammit!'

'Calm down, Jack. He'll be back. He'll come to look for his daughter.'

'I know. I have already increased the security in Port Haven.' he turned to look at him very seriously. 'When Will rejoining the unit, I want you both to go to visit her to see what you can get of her.'

'Haven't she been questioned yet?' he asked, surprised.

'She hasn't said much. She is traumatized. I thought to give her a couple of days, just to her going soft.'

'Do you consider her a suspect?'

'Well, doctors have said she isn't a lycanthrope. His mother wasn't either. But they both had in their stomachs leftlovers of the flesh that was found in the freezer of their basement and it was human flesh. If we cannot prove she is a victim, then she would become an accomplice and she eventually would be executed like her father... as soon as we caught him.'

'I doubt she was an active part in Hobbs' murders. She's just a girl. She and her mother could consume the meat without knowing it was human. He could deceive them, making them believe it was game meat. Didn't you find hunting rifles in the house?'

'Yes. It's obvious that Hobbs was a hunter. To find the rest, we still have to investigate further. I don't dismiss any hypothesis, doctor.'

'That's your job.' Hannibal nodded. 'Although, I personally think Abigail is innocent. She has gone through a very difficult experience: his father was about to slit her throat, seconds after killing her mother.'

'She was lucky Will fired on time.'

'Have you seen him recently? Will, I mean.' asked the psychiatrist, trying not to look as worried as he was. 'I haven't see him for days. I know he checked himself out of the hospital and he is already at home.'

'Yes.' Jack huffed. 'What a stubborn boy, he refused to heard the doctor's advice. Although I don't blame him.' he added. 'He has many things to think about.'

'That's true. Tell me, Jack, Is there any news of the Internal Affairs Commission? Have they decided anything about what happened?'

Jack sighed.

'They still have to officially notify it but I have a friend in the department who has told me they wont remove Will from the case. It's a relief. Especially since the Brigade has continued to nag to do so.' he pursed his lips angrily. 'That Herman Cold is a pain in the ass.'

'He loathes Will.' Hannibal said, wincing. 'But at least the Commission has allowed him to continue in the case...'

'They are going to suspend him.' announced Jack and Hannibal looked at him, surprised and outraged. 'It will be only a few days, basically they are going to prolong Will's leave one week: they didn't want to be too hard on him because he saved your live and the girl's, which technically makes him a hero. But as you went to Hobbs' home without backup and without even notifying the Brigade, knowing he could be our man... well, the Commission thinks it was imprudent. Now Will would have to wait few more days to return to work and when he'll do it, he will be under my direct supervision. If he mess again, we both will pay the consequences. They're going to watch us closely.'

Hannibal looked away. He said nothing but he thought many things about the people who formed the Commission and also on certain members of the Brigade. Will was lucky, after all, although it was extremely unfair to punish him after putting his life in danger to save them. He had learned unassisted - by pure intuition but sometimes the police job was that - that Hobbs could be the murderer they were looking for, after reviewing his personal profile and find some strange details. If it were not for the man had trandformed suddenly, now everyone would be congratulating Will for having caught the murderer and saved Abigail.

Life was unfair.

'By the way.' Jack added at that time, tearing his thoughts. The doctor turned to face him. 'My friend told me you made an excellent statement in favor of Will before the Commission and that has contributed to his cause. Thank you.'

'You don't need to mention it.' he couldn't help a smile. 'I just told the truth. Fortunately or not, I was there to witness it.'

'In this case, it was fortunately.' Jack nodded. 'We also have to thank you for saving Will from that beast.'

'I just did what must be done.'

'It's very possible the Commission will appoint you as Will's therapist. My friend told me that your testimony made a good impression. And when you had already made his evaluation... well, it's the logical thing.'

'I don't know what Will would think about it.'

'Will has nothing to think or say: the law will force him to do, wherther he likes it or not. He is a werewolf now.'

Dr. Lecter nodded and sighed to himself, wondering what advantages and disadvantages that would bring them all. How would Will react, if he was forced by law to do therapy with him?

 

 

 

Surprisingly, the FBI agent went to his first therapy session in Hannibal's office and he was punctual.

After receipt the notification of the Commission informing him about his official status as Will Graham's therapist, Dr. Lecter had tried to contact him by sending a message... that his partner had responded with an automatic response.

Hannibal feared Will didn't appear until the last moment. But he appeared and sat in a circle with the others, attending the meeting for an hour but he didn't participate much in it. That wasn't surprising, under the circumstances.

At the end of the session, Dr. Lecter dismissed his patients and walked them to the door. He saw them go and when he closed the door of his office and turned around, thinking he was alone, he came face to face with Will Graham's eyes, who looked at him questioning. The agent had a serious expression on his face.

'Do you need something?' Hannibal asked curiously.

'I'd like to talk to you, if possible.'

'Of course.' he gestured toward the nearest chair but Will didn't move.

'I'd rather stand. I don't take up much of your time, we both have things to do.'

'As you wish. Would you like a drink or...?'

'No, thanks. I want to talk you about a subject, Hannibal.'

The use of his name aroused the curiosity of the doctor. He didn't know what the other man had in his mind but by his words and the expression on his face, he was sure they were going to try an important and personal issue.

'Therapy is not easy for me.' said Will. That was something they both knew. But Hannibal watched his partner expectantly, waiting for him to explain. 'If I could choose, we both know I wouldn't come. But law obligues me and unfortunately I cannot choose the professional who must treat me because the Commission has already done for me.'

'I'm sorry the current situation displeases you so much.' he apologized, a bit hurt by his words.

'It's not...' Will sighed, realizing how that has sounded. 'Hannibal, it's not your fault, is mine. I hate therapy. And everything what happened between us does nothing but worsen it. Things I told you in the hospital...'

'Were they lies?'

'No.' he admitted. He stared into his eyes. 'I was under the influence of painkillers but I was being sincere. I hardly think about anything other than be with you but we cannot because we aren't just colleagues now, we also are doctor and patient. If before there was any chance of being together, it's lost. Start a relationship in our circumstances, even if it was just sex, means trouble for we both.'

'And what have you decided to do about it?' Hannibal asked, interested.

Will sighed.

'The only thing I can do is bear this situation the best I can. We both must do it.'

'And did it ever occur to you that we could handle this together in a better way?'

'What do you mean?'

Hannibal approached him. He fixed her brown eyes on his.

'You worry too much, Will. Often you let things overwhelm you. The obstacles you have mentioned aren't set in stone: for example the fact that we are doctor and patient, it can be changed.'

'But the Commission has ruled...'

'I could resign and they would have to assign you another therapist, or allow you to chose it yourself. And in relation to us being partners: that's temporary and can be arranged too. We just have to find a way. Things aren't as complicated as you think.'

'Oh, no? And, tell me, what do we do with Anthony?' Hannibal looked stunned as he stared back unsmiling. 'Yes, I know about Anthony. Don't ask me how, I just know. I'm glad you have a partner and you are in an open relationship but I couldn't be part of it: I'm not good at being second fiddle and I couldn't share you with others, Hannibal, I'm too selfish. I couldn't give you the freedom you want and are used to. Also, I don't like the idea of get in the middle of a couple already established.' he sighed, irritated. 'The best we can do is to put limits on our relationship: let's move forward the therapy, let's be colleagues, even we can be friends...'

'Shut up.'

The way he pronounced that order took Will by surprise. The agent watched at him with astonishment and soon his face showed his anger at the tone:

'I beg your pardon?'

Hannibal grimaced, sorry for his outburst.

'I'm Sorry, I didn't mean to be so abrupt. I've asked you to shut up because I don't want to hear you saying what you was going to say: I don't want you to relegate our interaction to a state that none of us really wants. We work well together and we can be friends, if you want, but I'm not going to pretend that's all what we are.'

'We are nothing more, Hannibal.'

'But you're as keen as I am that we are. Otherwise, we wouldn't be addressing the issue.'

'I just wanted to let things clear. There are several reasons why we cannot be together. Besides, you have Anthony and I don't want to be the third point of the triangle. As I told you, I'm no good at play second fiddle.'

'I see. Besides selfish, you are also proud.'

'Yes.'

'And insecure and jealous.' he realised, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips.

'Are you going to reproach me all my faults? Because if so, I'm leaving.'

'No.'

'Stop giving me orders.' he rebelled, pursing his lips.

'I'm not giving you orders, I'm asking you to stay. We can be whatever you want, Will.'

'Hannibal...'

'Listen to me. Anthony and I have been together for three years. We have been happy and currently there is affection between us, occasionally desire, but nothing more. We had fun once in a while but we don't even live together. If in order to be with you I have to leave him, I will.'

'Just like that?'

Hannibal stared at him with an intensity that made something deep inside Will tremble with anticipation.

'All this time never has crossed my mind the idea of marking Anthony. I don't feel this need with him but I feel it with you.'

'Why?'

'Because I like you, Will. Because I trust you. It's not hard for me to see us as a couple and I have no reason to silence it, or to pretend I don't feel what I feel for you.'

'But you said you didn't like bounds...'

'I chose bound with whom I want, when I want. Don't confuse yourself thinking that because I don't practice faithfulness assiduously I am unable to provide it, when that is my wish. When I meet someone like you, Will, someone with who I feel satisfied and don't feel the need of look away.'

'That happens to you frequently?'

'It has only happened to me with someone else before you. Our relationship ended years ago and although we don't see much each other, we are always cordial.'

'As me and Alana.'

'More or less.' he raised a hand and stroked his partner cheek. His gaze captured Will's, hypnotic. 'Tell me, what do you think of my proposal?'

'It's... it's tempting but we cannot...'

Hannibal leaned down and silenced him with a kiss. It was enough nonsense. He knew Will wanted that as much as him and that whole litany of excuses he had listed for not being together were just that, excuses. Proof of this was he had come to him to speak. And now with his arms around him, Will doesn't refused to reciprocate. Moreover, he replied him passionately, pressing against his body looking for his warmth and putting his arms around his neck, fully accept what he offered to him. The agent's body also gave off from every pore a special aroma, which showed the willingness of the young man to what they were doing.

Hannibal allowed Will undress him, while he was undressing him in turn. When the agent's torso was exposed, the doctor stared at the bandage on the shoulder and neck of his partner. He put a hand on it, sliding his thumb over his collarbone in a caress.

'Your wound: are you well enough?'

'We can go slowly, if it is a problem.'

'Or I can heal you.' he offered. 'You're a werewolf, nobody will notice.'

'Okay.'

He peeled off the bandage carefully. He took him back in his arms and while Will turned his head to expose his neck, he leaned over and licked the wound. He made sure to cover it well with his saliva and gently licked every centimeter of it, smirking at the end to see how the wound was closing slowly, until it was officially healed.

'It is strange it hasn't healed before.' Hannibal mused aloud.

'The conversion is recent. The body needs time to adapt to change.'

'Have you noticed any symptoms? Your senses...'

'They have improved but are not develop as much as I thought they'd do.'

'That's weird' he frowned. Will's only response was to kiss him again and then anything that wasn't themselves disappeared from their minds. When the kiss ended, they both were short of breath and Hannibal hurried to take his partner's hand. 'Let's go to the bedroom.'

They left the office and crossed the lobby toward the stairs. They climbed to the top floor and less than they thought they were in the master bedroom, lying one above the other on the psychiatrist's big bed.

'This time I'd like to be the one who takes control.' said the doctor, taking off his partner's underwear. 'Do you agree?'

'I think it's fair.' Will nodded. 'Lead me and I'll follow you.'

He grabbed him gently by the ankle and smiled full of promises before leaning over him and dedicate a kiss to the ankle, another to the knee, and a small bite out of the inner thigh. This last caress caused a slight gasp and a delicious shudder that ran through Will's whole body.

Hannibal continued to rise, spreading kisses and caresses around his lover's body. He took charge of finding and pay special attention to the most sensitive areas, accelerating the pace of breathing and the heartbeats of his partner. Will put his legs around Hannibal's waist and moved his hips to deliberately rubbing his erection against the soft fabric of the doctor's underwear, in a more than pleasant way for both. Hannibal caught Will's hands above the agent's head and laced his fingers with his, forming a solid grip while kissing him and moving more briskly between his legs, until the young man reach pleasure with an audible moan.

They embraced each other. Hannibal hid his face in Will's neck and inhaled his scent, letting out a sound of satisfaction. His body throbbed with the desire doesn't released yet and he felt the stimulating heat of Will's essence in his crotch, where the other had ejaculated. It was a constant temptation but he was determined to wait for his partner to recover forces before they started again. They had all the time in the world, there was no need to hurry. Meanwhile, he caressing Will, enjoying the view of his slender slightly sweaty body, his still breathing, his rosy cheeks and his eyes of a beautiful bright blue.

When his body and his smell told him that his partner was ready, Hannibal kissed him tenderly on the lips.

'Turn around.' he asked him.

Will obeyed. Hannibal departed from him only a moment to take off his clothes and opened the top drawer of the nightstand, where he pulled a condom wrapper and a bottle of special lubricant... because he wanted that experience was especially nice.

'How long since the last time?' he asked, kneeling with his knees on both sides of Will's body.

'Years.' the agent replied, turning his face to look at him. 'Since I was in the university.'

'So much?' Will nodded. 'We'll have to take action.'

The young man smiled and Hannibal couldn't resist to kiss his hair, taking his smell with him as a reward. He put the condom on and immediately opened the bottle of lubricant to began to stimulate his partner. The FBI agent let out at first a little exclamation of surprise, immediately followed by a soft moan of satisfaction, when the heat of the lubricant began to take effect. After some delicious instants, Hannibal slid a second finger inside him... and when he was ready, a third. Will's desire was rising by the minute: he moved unconsciously to facilitate the penetration and the sounds coming from his throat were increasingly audible and continuated.

The doctor felt he was a cruel man when he retired his fingers and Will responded with a whimper of protest. He knew the young man didn't want him to leave and he didn't want to leave him neither, so he readjusted Will's position to place him on all fours, while the man leaning his forearms on the bed to better strengthen the body's weight.

He entered slowly, holding his partner hips with both hands and sliding inched inside until he was completely there. Will greeted him with a deep gasp.

'Do I hurt you?' he stopped immediately.

'No. Go on, please.'

The psychiatrist obeyed. He established a smooth, steady rhythm with his thrusts, which proved to be very pleasurable for his partner and likewise delayed his own desire, enabling both to reach the orgasm almost in unison.

After the explosion of pleasure, they remained united for several seconds while they trying to catch his breath. Then they lay side and Hannibal hugged Will from behind.

'It has been incredible.' the agent panted, smiling as he felt his lover's little kisses in his ear and neck.

'Can I mark you now?' asked the doctor in his ear.

'Yes.' Will smile widened when he noticed the psychiatrist's body rubbing against his, leaving his scent on him as a souvenir. 'Can I mark you too?' he asked and only had to wait a second to get the answer:

'Absolutely yes.'

The young man turned around. Their bodies were embraced while they rubbing and mark each other with their respective scents. It was a new experience for Will, pleasurable and intimate, wanted in some way.

Hannibal, meanwhile, was simply happy.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal resigned his appointment as Will's official therapist before the committee for personal reasons. Will found him a substitute just days after: Dr. Jia Zhi. She was a competent psychologist, middle-aged and nice. Her vivacious black eyes, which matched her hair, and his open and sincere smile inspired trust in others. Will felt comfortable in his therapy sessions with her and that was a great achievement itself.

When the FBI agent just had a week under her supervision, Dr. Zhi asked him to remain one afternoon after the session.

'Is there something wrong, doctor?' he asked, watching her curiously.

'Will, I'd like to tell you about something: I could have observed you during our sessions and I think we should talk.'

'Go Ahead.'

'The first day, you said in the group session you had been turned into lycanthrope a cause of an accident at work.' the agent nodded. 'Before that, had you ever noticed anything unusual, any kind of symptom: biological immunity or heightened senses?' Will shook his head. 'Have you been in contact with werewolves in the past?'

'Sometimes.' he said, not wanting to give details. The Brigade wasn't very popular among werewolves, so he had decided to keep that part of his past to himself, just in case.

'During those interactions, have you noticed anything abnormal? Do werewolves tend to trust you? Do you feel comfortable with them?' Will kept silent. The doctor smiled, knowing exactly what that meant. 'I'm saying this because I've noticed some peculiarity in you: a scent that is secreted by certain individuals in whom Licantrophy doesn't manifest itself in full force. It is a special condition which affects about 10% of the lycanthrope population. Normally, individuals who suffer from it do innately... and something tells me you know what I mean, Will.'

'Well, I... actually, it's true that I have always felt an affinity for werewolves. But I never thought it was a condition.'

'Is there a history of lycanthropy in your family?'

'No, as long as I know.'

'I'll tell you what we'll do.' the doctor rummaged among the papers from her desk and, after finding what she was looking for, she gave Will a thin sheaf of papers printed. It seemed an academic article. 'I'd like you to read this article at home, Will, and we could discuss it together in our next individual session. It's a very interesting article and maybe it could help you to understand some things you hasn't realized until now.'

'Okay.' he nodded. Then he glanced at his wristwatch. 'Excuse me, doctor, I must go home now. My partner would be waiting for me for dinner.'

'Of course.' she smiled friendly at him. 'Good evening, Will.'

'Good evening, Dr. Zhi.'

The young man turned on his heels and left the office with the article folded under his arm.  
  


 

 

The night had fallen in the woods of Minnesota.

Inside the small cabin, the light of a crescent moon lighted up the master bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, the tall man watched like tiny specks of dust danced in the moonbeams.

He raised his eyes to the window and looked at the moon, whose light was still not as bright as it would be when it was full but also it gave him hope to face what was coming.

Only a few weeks more. Every day that passed he was closer to fulfilling his wish and reunited with her. Both had one last trip pending.

Days ago, not even it would have crossed his mind the idea to kill her. He was simply unable to hurt her. But now things had changed: because everything had rushed; because the FBI would be looking for him; because they had took her away and he did't want to live in a world without Abigail, his precious Abigail...

He loved her more than he could express. Everything he had done, he had done for her. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, much less conceived to kill her. So he had decided to kill the other girls. And as since Abigail was eleven and he had taught her to handle a rifle they have always hunted together, he recruited her to carry out that task. It was a good way to strengthen their bound and stand together: hunting, killing and feeding on their prey...

He sighed, feeling the nostalgia that had accompanied him since he left his house, fleeing from the FBI men. He felt a hole in the center of his heart, a void, and he knew that was because of being away from his child. He couldn't hold her anymore, not hear her voice or see her smile or look inside those beautiful and huge blue eyes, which had the power to make him forget any problem.

It was a cruel and painful separation. But in a few weeks it would end. He just had to stay alive and free until then, find out where they had taken her daughter and finally reach her, so they could have the last meeting of their lives.

He wouldn't leave this world without seeing her again. He wouldn't leave without his Abigail.

 

 

 

He opened the door and Anthony smiled when he saw him wearing that dark blue suit that showed off his fair hair and favored the nice brown tone of his eyes.

Hannibal let him come in and the force of habit made they went together to the lounge, where the usual tray with a bottle and two glasses of red wine rested on a small table near to the fireplace.

'I thought you wouldn't call me.' Anthony said, taking his glass and giving it the first sip. 'It's been over a week since the last time we met.'

'I wanted to talk to you.'

The serious tone of his words and the expression on his face was enough to made him know that something was wrong:

'That look.' he returned the glass to its site, suspicious. 'What have I done?'

'Have you talked with Will Graham, lately? I have heard you both met in the hospital.'

Anthony sighed, knowing he had been caught in his misdeed.

'I asked him not to say you anything. I didn't want to make you angry, Hannibal, I...'

'In other circumstances, I would have deeply disturbed for your meddling.' he said. Then he paused. 'But considering how events have evolved, I guess I should thank you.'

'Finally he has decided?' he asked, surprised and curious at the same time. Hannibal nodded. 'Congratulations. Knowing you both, I know you will make a great couple.'

'Unfortunately, that means you and I cannot remain so.'

'I understand.' said Anthony, after a moment. 'Mr. Graham is a tolerant man but not to such extremes. In addition, sooner or later it had to happen: I knew that someday you would find someone to arouse in you the feelings I haven't been able to arouse in three years.'

'It has been three very good years.' praised the psychiatrist. 'I'm sorry it have to end this way.'

' _Çe la vie_ .' he shrugged. 'At least we can be satisfied with what we have experienced. I don't regret anything.'

'Me neither.'

Anthony took up his glass. Seeing him, Hannibal did the same: they made a silent toast for all the moments they've enjoyed together and drank in unision, officially ending their relationship.

'Mr. Graham and you have already bounded?' he asked, after a pause. The doctor nodded. 'In that case, I have no more to say. I hope you to be happy, Hannibal. I really hope so.'

'Thank you, Anthony.'

'We're still friends, right?' he smiled fondly at him. 'Though I know I must get away from you for a while because your new boyfriend is more jealous than me.'

'He's more insecure.' Hannibal admitted. 'But eventually, I hope he realize he has nothing to fear in that regard. I will strive to make him see.'

'You're persuasion itself.' Anthony praised him. 'I'm sure you will convinced him.'

Hannibal smiled. They finished their last glass and then the say goodbye each other until they could see again. One last hug as Hannibal accompanied him to the door and as he walked away, he felt on his back the look of who had been his lover and partner for years. It was sad to end their relationship but all is well that ends well, as they say. Hannibal and him had shared a lot but now there was another man with whom his good doctor wanted to share things, specifically his life, and he could only stand aside and let them live in peace.

They had such an adventure ahead to face together.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Abigail was in her room in Port Haven, lying in bed, trying not to think.

Weeks ago, her life was relatively normal. Apart from the dark secret she shared with his father, there was nothing to cloud her existence and her life was basically like any American middle class teenager. Now she was motherless, her father was the cause of that state, and also he has revealed to the FBI as a lycanthrope. No one could have any doubt he was the infamous murderer who had been killing students in the campus of Minnesota. All media were echoed and Abigail felt pierced by the eyes of others wherever she went. Her world had turned upside down in a few seconds, like a car that is face down on the road after a brutal accident... that analogy was the most accurated, in her opinion.

At the moment she was expecting a visit from a FBI agent. He had called that morning from Virginia and had asked her if she would be willing to answer some questions. At first she thought to refuse but she knew that sooner or later she would have to face again the scrutiny of the authorities, who sought in her an accomplice or a bait to catch his father.

'Whatever happens, blame me.' had told his father time ago. 'I don't want you to end up locked, Abigail. I will never let them send you to a psychiatric or a prison... not you. You're not like me and you have not kill anyone. They don't have to know what you've done for me. If someday I get caught, I will carry all the blame and you will be innocent before all. Promise me.'

And she has promised, of course. Who wanted to end his days locked up like an animal? In addition, his father was right: she had not killed anyone. She had helped him only to save her life, in order not to be the prey that ended dead and devoured by the beast.

If she could have help it, It would never be...

She heard a knock on the door and the next moment two men entered her room. She instantly recognized them: they were the FBI agents who were present when his father lost his mind.

She rose to a sitting position on the bed and looked at them both with caution.

'Good morning, Abigail.' greeted the youngest. He was a handsome, dark blue-eyed man. He dressed casually in jeans and jacket. His friendly smile helped to relax her nerves a bit.

'Good morning.' she corresponded, trying to appear calm. 'Are you Mr. Graham?'

'Yes. And this is my partner, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.' he gestured to the other man, who was tall, with fair hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a three-piece taylor-made suit.

'Nice to meet you, Abigail.' the doctor's voice was calm, velvety.

'What kind of doctor are you?' she asked, although she almost guessed the answer.

'I'm a psychiatrist.'

There was a pause of silence. Abigail swallowed.

'I understand.'

'Are you ready?' she nodded and the agent walked over to sit on her bed, at a distance that didn't invade her personal space. Dr. Lecter remained in place, watching them. 'I'll ask you some questions: I will see it wasn't a heavy interrogation and if at any time you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, say it, okay?'

'Ok.'

 _'Here we go.'_ she thought.

'What happened the last time you saw your father?'

'He went crazy.' she said, wincing at the memory. 'We were at home. Everything was normal until he received that call...'

'What call?' he frowned curiously.

'They called him from his work. It was breakfast time and I handed him the phone and went to finish setting the table. Then I went upstairs for my jacket because I had to go to school and when I came back to the kitchen was when it happened.'

'The person who called identified himself?'

'No. And I've never heard that voice before.'

'Was it a man or woman?'

'A man. He didn't say much: just asked for my father and said he was calling from the office.'

'Could you recognize him if you heard him again?'

'I don't know.' she sighed, dejectedly. 'I'm Sorry.'

'Don't worry, it's ok.' he paused before continuing: 'Before what happened in your house, did you notice anything unusual in your father's behaviour?'

Abigail mused. She scowled with concentration.

'At first I didn't think it was.' she replied. 'There were times when my father was evasive, irritable... those days it was better doesn't talk to him. My mother and I thought he was stressed a cause of his work. But now I think about it, I think he wasn't well since his last hunting trip almost a year ago.'

'What happen in that trip?'

'I don't know but my father returned home two days later than usual. Usually he was back on Monday morning and this time he didn't return until Wednesday. He called my mother and me on Tuesday night to tell us he'll come back the next day: the prey had resisted and it had taken him more than usual to hunt it. We didn't give it more importance.'

'Where usually go hunting your father?'

'To the forest. He has a cabin but I couldn't say where.'

'He never took you there?'

'No.'

She lied. Of course she had been there, she could even took them there by hand and blindfolded if they asked. She hadn't stopped visiting the cabin with his father since age eleven, one weekend a month, like clockwork. They always hunted together since he taught her to shoot a rifle. But she couldn't tell them, the FBI or anyone else because then they would know where to find him. They would go after his father and kill him like an animal.

Despite all the bad things he had done, despite all the death, fear and the certain threat that he would return for her to finish what he had started in the kitchen... still she couldn't give him away. It was his father and although a part of her hated him for what he had done to them all - starting with those girls and ending with her and her mother - she couldn't betray him.

Perhaps she was worse than she thought...

'Is there anything else you can remember?' agent Graham asked. 'Any detail, even if it seem to be insignificant, could help us.'

'I'm sorry.' she shook her head. 'My father was an ordinary man until that morning. I never thought he could...'

Suddenly, her voice failed. It wasn't planned and took her by surprise: the memories hit her hard and she cannot help but mourn break, ducking his head to hide her tears with shame.

'Easy.' the agent approached her and placed a comforting hand on hers, stroking her hair with the other. 'What happened is not your fault, Abigail. Your father is very ill. You aren't responsible for what he has done.'

'He killed my mother.' she faced him, her face soaked in tears that revealed her fear and trauma. 'All those girls... he wanted to kill me...'

She collapsed and he comforted her. He hugged her and she couldn't help but put her head on his shoulder to mourn her eyes out. Agent Graham's embrace was paternal, protective as a rock and Abigail letting go. It was like being a child again and have her father to make the pain go away and fix everything again.

The agent held her against his chest all the time and, over their heads, Abigail could feel Dr. Lecter's gaze fixed on them.  
  


 

 

'What do you think?' Hannibal asked Will forty minutes later, while coming back to Baltimore in his car.

'She is greatly affected.' sighed his partner, grimacing. 'It's normal: suddenly she discovers that her father is a werewolf and a serial killer, who by the way, has killed his mother and tried to kill her too. She will need time to get over it.'

'And to that we must add the fear of her father would come back for her. I'm sure Abigail live with that.'

'She has reasons for doing so: Hobbs will returned for his daughter and he wont leave without her.'

'Do you think he is planning to kidnap her?'

'No. He's going to kill her.' he said, so sure as he had Lecter seated next to him. 'That has been his wish from the first moment but he've never dared to do it because she is his daughter and he loves her. But now his cover has been discovered, he is a fugitive and if the police catches him, he knows he is done... he has nothing to lose now.'

Hannibal nodded, agreeing with his partner. There was silent between them and the psychiatrist couldn't help but mull over what had happened during his interview with Abigail:

In that room he had seen a young girl broken by the trauma and the pain, very convincing in her victim role, because indeed she was... but something told him she was only in part. While she was talking to Will, he had studied her reactions and body language and could safely say she had lied in stating she didn't know where his father's cabin was and she hadn't ever visited it. Likewise, when she mentioned his father had been normal until the day his madness broke out in the kitchen, she was not being totally honest.

Abigail Hobbs knew much more than she said. It was logical to hide it, he doesn't blame her for it. Her current situation was very delicate and her trauma was very real. If she lied, she did so out of fear or survival. He had met many monsters in his life and knew how to recognize a victim when he saw one. Abigail Hobbs was a victim. She didn't deserve to be judged but helped and protected, exactly what Will had done for her half an hour before.

In retrospect, it seized a warm feeling inside him: the way his partner had hugged the girl, as a daughter, speaking softly as he held her and allowing her to vent her feelings, literally offering his shoulder for her to mourn.

As soon as he saw him, it was clear. He knew Will was looking for a family in every stray dog he picked up and suddenly appeared before them a helpless young girl who must be cared for. How can they resist? It was perfect: Abigail needed one - or two - father figure, Will wanted a family and he wanted to give his partner everything he wanted. He knew it would be okay if they did it together. He was more than willing to share the experience of parenthood with him, so...

'I've done something.' he confessed and Will looked at him, curiously. 'I hope you don't mind but I thought it was the best. The truth is I couldn't help...'

'What have you done?' he frowned, cautious.

'Look in the folder.' he pointed with a nod. It was a record file, apparently. It had been given to the doctor before they left the hospital.

Will open and read it.

'You have requested legal guardianship of Abigail Hobbs!' he said, surprised.

'After what happened to their parents, her custody is in state hands. I honestly don't think that's the best for her, so I requested to grant us her guardianship.' he looked at his partner, trying to figure out if he was angry. It seemed that he wasn't. 'If you sign those papers, we will share the responsibility.'

Wll watched him very seriously.

'Why did you do that?'

'Does it seem bad to you?'

'No but why did you do that? We barely know Abigail and her...'

'She trust us.' Hannibal alleged. 'I've seen it in her eyes during interrogation. Especially she trust in you, Will, she let you comfort her as she wept.'

'She was going through a difficult moment.'

'Yes and you comforted her. You made her feel safe again and I know you did it because she awoke those feelings in you: you'd be an excellent father, Will. Especially for Abigail.'

'Is this for her or for us?' he questioned suspiciously. 'Are you trying we form a family or something? Is not a little early?'

'If it's not what you want... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel forced.'

'Never mind.' he huffed. He pulled out a pen from his jacket and signed the papers. 'She needs protection and a couple of extra parents will make no difference.'

'Thank you, Will.'

'Don't thank me. Parenting is not a game, Hannibal, and you will notice soon. If it's complicated raising a teenager without problems, imagine all we'll have to deal with Abigail.'

'You'll do great, I know. And I'll be by your side to help you.'

'It will be an adventure.' he warned him. He closed the folder. 'Remember send the papers tomorrow to make it official.'

Hannibal nodded.

'I wont forget it.'

Will sighed and turned his head to look out the window. Dr. Lecter didn't take his eyes off the road, while outlining a smile. For the second time that week, he was happy.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The night was quiet in Baltimore.

At Dr. Lecter house, the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom had been decorated here and there with small scented candles, that shone giving a warm touch to the darkness and a subtle perfume of mimosa to the room. Not far sounded an old gramophone with music by Chopin and in the bathtub, filled with hot water and seasoned with salt bath, the couple delighted with an exquisite midnight bath.

'I've been thinking.' Hannibal said, stroking Will's curls that rested on his chest.

'About what?'

'How long have you been taking your medication?' he asked curiously.

'About two weeks, why?'

'Have you notice any effect?'

Will thought about it.

'I feel more relaxed than usual. Sometimes, I feel a bit sleepy. But that the way medication must work: sedating the beast to prevent it from going out.'

'But the beast is not easy to defeat.'

'No.'

'Before you start taking medication, did you notice any symptoms? Your immune system is not accelerated or your senses sharpened...?'

Will raised his eyes to look at him. The doctor's face looked serious and thoughtful to the candlelight.

'You're talking like my therapist.'

'Dr. Zhi?'

'She gave me an article to read before our next individual session, next week.'

'An article about what?

'Apparently, about a strange condition that affects 10% of the lycanthrope population. But I couldn't read it yet, so I don't know what it's about.'

'You should read it.' he advised him. 'Maybe this article can clarify some things.'

'That's what Dr, Zhy said. What's going on?' he asked, curious and slightly nervous at the insistence of they both. 'Do you think I'm sick, or there has been a diagnostic error and I'm not a werewolf?'

'No, I'm sure you are. If you were not, both Dr. Zhi and I would have noticed: lycanthropes can smell it, especially those who are so by birth. I can feel the wolf in you, Will, but it's not like the others. My group therapy, for example: the beast is evident in them but in a different way.'

Will frowned, thinking about it.

'Why do you think is this?'

'I don't know.' he paused before adding: 'We should check it out. I have a friend in the Hammill laboratories. Would you mind if we send him a sample of your blood for some tests?'

'Are you saying it seriously?' he incorporated and turn around to watch him. Hannibal could see the confusion on his face.

'Yes. It's your choice, of course. You don't have to do it, if you don't want. But I believe there is something wrong on it and I'd like to know what is it.'

'Well.' he sighed, resigned. 'The idea doesn't make me happy but I guess it's okay to try. How much do these analyzes?'

'Don't worry about the price.' there was a moment of silence and then Hannibal spoke: 'Will, what I'm going to ask you now is risky but I'm sure we can handle it: I can help you to control the effects of Lycanthropy, especially during the transformation. In return I would like to ask you to stop taking the medication, thus the sample we'll send to the laboratory will be clean. It is important to confirm my theory.'

'Your theory?' he frowned. 'So, you've been doing your research behind my back.'

'Don't say it as if it were a bad thing. I just read a little. Throughout my life, I have researched a lot about lycanthropy and anything that might help me to control it. I found some interesting facts and perhaps one of them is the key to clarify the doubts I have about your condition. I just want to make sure, that's all.'

Will stared at him for a long time. He pursed his lips.

'You know what you're asking me is illegal. I have to pass routine checks to show I am taking medication and, if I don't, I will be judge by default and I'll end up imprisoned or worse. You know it as well as me.'

'Yes and believe me, it's not my intention you finish that way. Only I ask you to stop taking the medication until after the next full moon. We send the sample before and, if by then my theory is not confirmed... if there is any problem... I promise you I will assume all the consequences. You can trust me, Will, you know it.'

He knew it. But still he couldn't help thinking what his partner proposed him was very risky. Too many things could go wrong.

'How will you help me?' he asked, intrigued despite himself.

'In the same way I have helped myself. You have to know and accept you as you are, embrace the wolf instead of denying it, because that's the only way you can control it. Relaxation exercises, meditation and yoga help because they provide flexibility to the body and calm to the mind. It make easy to have control over ourselves. During the transformation, that is very important: if your body and mind are not ready, Will, the experience will be traumatic... not to mention that we'll be dealing with a time bomb. Many things can happen during the process, especially if it's not well done.'

'You're the expert.' he said and his tone had some irony and an unmistakable sign of hope.

'You know I can control the beast better than anyone.'

Will fixed his blue gaze on him. He began to realize what that meant and with the discovery came the suspicion:

'Have you stopped taking your medication?' silence was his only response. Hannibal stared at him wordlessly but it was not necessary because his face said it all. 'How do you pass the checks!?' he snorted, dumbfounded.

'I have help.'

'Have you tried with others what you want to try with me?' the psychiatrist nodded and Will snorted again. 'Damn, Hannibal, what's your game?! Tell me at least if it works.'

'It works.' he said crisply. 'My experience of years proves it. I'm trying to prove it with more people in an attempt to standardize the method. It would revolutionize the treatment of Lycanthropy and werewolves would cease to be subject to medicines. They could be free, Will, free to take control of their lives and not have to carry their condition as if it were a despicable disease. I know you understand.' he appealed to his conscience. 'You're one of the few people who doesn't see us as monsters or as a threat to eradicate.'

'That's because we're not. Some are but not all. Most lycanthropes I've met were normal people, not monsters, they were not even bad people.'

'Will you help me?' Hannibal asked, holding him by his wrists gently. He stared at him and Will felt he started to giving in.

'It'd better work.' he warned him. 'Or we both will end badly.'

'It will work.'

He kissed him, grateful. Will freed himself from the grip of the psychiatrist and wrapped both hands in his hair, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss more and more until they had to separate, both with bated breath and aroused.

Hannibal went out of the tub. Will waited for him on his knees in the water because he knew exactly what he planned. He watched him open one of the drawers of the cabinet and draw from it a small jar of lubricant. It was a special lubricant, silicone based, for use in aquatic environments since water erasing any trace of lubrication and it made necessary to use extra measures.

When the doctor returned to his side, Will prevented him from liying down in the tub as he intended. He held his hips for him to stay standing and used his hands and mouth to caress Hannibal's belly, his navel and the inside of his thighs.

The doctor didn't hold back when he felt his partner's lips covering his cock. He threw his head back and let out a groan, his hand caressing the agent damp hair, leading him in his movements.

'Oh, Will...' he sighed, in ecstasy. His partner's pace was increasingly exciting. He tried to stop him when he was near to the climax but Will wouldn't let him. Hannibal shook, as he spilled into his partner's mouth and felt like he consumed him in essence.

The agent left him and sat on his heels, watching his lover with a satisfied expression. But if he thought he was going to get away like that, he was totaly wrong. The doctor knelt in the tub immediately and motioned to his partner to made him give his back on him.

'Now it's your turn.' he announced.

Will obeyed with a smile. The bathtub was big and wide enough to not hamper their movements. He leaned on hands and knees, while Hannibal approached to lubricate him properly.

The psychiatrist used both the lubricant and his tongue to prepare his lover. Will reached orgasm before Hannibal penetrated him and then the doctor did it carefully, sliding gently into that warm, wet interior, which contracted in his path with delicious spasms.

Both enjoyed the experience. The agent grabbed with one hand on the edge of the tub and the other on Hannibal's right hip, urging him to continue and not cease his thrusts. The doctor, meanwhile, plunged a hand into the brown curls of the young man and put the other opposite to his partner's, on the edge of the tub. Their bodies bowed in unison, enjoying an angle and rate of penetration which was very pleasurable for both.

They reached orgasm together. They were shaking, sweaty and then hugging, sharing kisses and caresses while trying to catch their breath. And it had already become a habit for them, they rubbed their bodies for mark each other with their scent.  
  


 

 

Some weeks passed. Will had to postpone his individual session with Dr. Zhi a cause of his work but by then Hannibal and he had already read the article together and it had only increased their curiosity and suspicion regarding the alleged condition of the agent. They knew that only medical tests and the full moon could settle the matter, so they relaxed and observe while keeping on with their agreement: Will quit the medication and the doctor helped him to pass the routine checks with help, also he prepare him conscientiously for which could be his first transformation as a lycanthrope. At first it didn't seem that relaxation exercises, yoga or meditation were to serve for nothing but Will decided to have faith and give his partner a vote of confidence: after all, he felt much better since he followed Hannibal's advices, stronger and self-confident, more active in every way, with more heightened senses and he didn't miss the medication at all.

When the full moon finally came, safety in Port Haven was increased and a squadron of the Special Brigade took control of the floor where was Abigail Hobbs' room. When they were dealing with a lycanthrope, the Brigade were in charge of the operation but Jack Crawford pushed like hell to be allowed to attend the capture of the murderer who he had been chasing for almost a year... and as the new legal guardians of Abigail, Will and Hannibal used their rights to being admit in the small room that was fitted as a control room for the operation.

None of the others knew but the two men had a plan: they thought leave Hobbs in the hands of the Brigade but knowing in advance how cunning his murderer was – and how obsessive with his daughter he was – they had decided to intervene if things didn't go as expected. They hoped to have the opportunity to check if the exercises they had been doing for weeks really were good for something. Hannibal felt a special curiosity about it: would Will turn into a werewolf that night? Would he made it a fully transformation or only half?

It didn't take long for them to find out.

Garret Jacob Hobbs appeared at small hours. His presence wasn't captured by the monitors of the control room because previously he managed to destroy the electrical system, leaving the entire hospital in darkness, illuminated only by emergency lights.

'Shit!' Jack blurted, pushing away his headphones.

'Don't worry, the Brigade has night vision instruments.' Will informed him.

'We wont know how the operation is going...'

'We'll know: if it goes well, we will see those men back. If it goes wrong, we will hear their screams.'

Everyone expected not to have to hear them. However, Will had a strange feeling in his stomach... one not too good.

Their fears were confirmed less than an hour after the blackout:

The control room was inside the perimeter occupied by the Brigade, whose members at that time were guarding Abigail in her room, armed to the teeth with small pumps pepper which would daze any lycanthrope, irritating his eyes and blocking his nose. Also they got hunting knives and automatic rifles that shot bullets with a special silver alloy. If they could reach Hobbs, he wouldn't escape... and Hobbs knew it. Those obstacles only served to sharpen his wits.

He got access to the room through the wall from the room next door, which had been evacuated as a precaution. His superhuman strength opened a hole and weakened the structure of the septum, which succumbed as soon as it received the first burst of gunfire from the Brigade's heavy weapons. With the open field, Hobbs appeared shielded behind a wooden dresser, which he made sure to hurl his enemies, leaving half of them out of action.

The screams soon reached the control room. They were heartbreaking and decidedly human. Jack looked horrified at his partners, who after ordering him to lock himself in the room and not come out of there, no matter what happened, disappeared through the door immediately.

'Where are you going? What are you doing? Come back!' he ran after them. 'Will, for God's sake, you cannot defeat him...'

He tried to stop them grabbing by their arms but that was a mistake: they both turned around faster than any man could have done. Jack was found filled with their faces, lit by the red glow of emergency lights. What he saw made him release them instantly and went back to the wall. Those weren't the men he knew: the hair had grown thick, bristly on their faces; their jaws were dislocated and they show bared fangs; Hannibal's nose had begun to sharpen as if was about to merge with his mouth, perhaps to form a snout; in the bright eyes of both men he saw clearly that they had released the wolf.

Will and Hannibal went away and left behind the head of unit. A few seconds later, Jack heard in the distance collapsing a door in one of the hallways and he didn't have to ask what door it was. Immediately he heard a fight, audible grunts, blows and groans of pain. This was a battle in the making.

In the end, it was only silence. A silence that became thickening the air and bristled the hair on the whole body. It was suddenly broken by a howl: sharp, deep... a sound of triumph.

Jack trembled, became dizzy and had to lean against the wall for support. He was recognized on that animal singing the unmistakable voice of Will.

 

 


	13. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank you all those who has showed interest in my story: those who have read the fic, gave it kudos, sent me their reviews or included my story into their bookmarks. You make my days, dearies ;)!  
> That said, I must warn you: my brain is working in another fic and I hope I can bring it here soon to you could enjoy it. Take care, my friends. See you in the next fic, I hope ;)

_Atlantic coast. A few months later_.  
  
It has been Will's idea to take Abigail with them to their retirement. After what happened with Garrett Jacob Hobbs that violent night – which ended with the dead of five members of the Special Brigade as well as the murderer himself - and all the subsequent agitation, it was clear the three of them needed a break... and Hannibal had a house by the Atlantic which was ideal for that.

The intervention of the two men in capturing Hobbs didn't leave official record: the cameras were rendered useless, the three survivors of the Brigade were unconscious during the battle and both Will and Hannibal took charge to make it appear he was one of those agents heroicly fallen who had ended the life of the beast, saving them all. Meanwhile, Abigail and Jack decided not to discuss the matter. At the end of the day, the case was closed and tell the truth only contribute to harm those who had saved their lives that night.

Certain things were better let them be.

For several days - the retreat was suppossed to be for two weeks - Hannibal, Will and Abigail made domestic life in the house: they shared the chores, played with the dogs, enjoyed the excellent food of Dr. Lecter and, occasionally, some of Will's Cajun dishes. Normally, they divided their time between the solitude of the house and the strolls by the beach or around the woods.

That afternoon, after lunch, Abigail was reading in the living room, surrounded by Will's dogs that she had already made great affection and whose company her new parents felt that it was very good for her. Hannibal and Will was sit in the back yard, enjoying a glass of wine while the spring breeze brought them the smell of the ocean and his ears were reached by the sound of waves breaking on the cliff that lay at their feet. Both men were relaxed and had their hands clasped under the table.

Will's test results had arrived a few weeks earlier. Hannibal was right: there was something strange with his partner. In the excited words of his friend, Will had indeed a rare genetic condition that could be found in a small segment of the werewolf population and that could mean for the subject from not suffering from the disease - although in these cases, they still were a carrier - to suffer its condition at a level much lower than the most. It was an unusual condition, which was still being explored by science and had already begun to be used towards getting a cure for the disease...

'Meneur de Loups.' Hannibal said, smiling after reading the results.

'Sorry?' Will looked at him strangely from his seat in front of the kitchen table. He had come to the psychiatrist's house to show his partner the test results.

'You're a meneur de loups.' explained the doctor. The satisfaction for the confirmation of his theory was evident on his face. 'So call the French. In Spain they refer to them as Loberos. They are a strange figure associated with lycanthropy: some consider them werewolves, other a sort of tamers and others directly witches. In medieval Europe, they went from being wolves hunters to protectors of the herds and then to devil worshipers who make a deal with Lucifer himself and he gave them control over the wolves. The animals followed them everywhere and obeyed them blindly. Alexandre Dumas wrote a novel about it.' he targeted as a curiosity. 'The lobero lived with his pack, knew and shared their customs and language. Man and beast were able to communicate with each other.'

'And I'm one of them.' his brow furrowed at the thought. 'A meneur de loups.'

'That explains many things.' nodded the doctor. 'Why the Licantrophy don't affect you as the others, why you have a special affinity with canids and always have possessed the power to communicate and reassure the Lycans. In your file, the boss of your unit came to write that seemed to you have some kind of power over them and thanks to that so many arrests didn't end in tragedy.'

'He was exaggerating.'

'No, he was telling the truth. You were born with a gift, Will. You're a kind of leader among wolves, someone they can trust and follow... they feel that way.' he assured and for the way he looked at him, the agent knew he was speaking from experience.

'I don't expect they follow me, I just... well, I'd like to help if I can.'

'Are you going to accept Henry's proposal?' he squatted in front of him to look into his eyes. 'Will you donate your blood for research?'

'No. Not yet, at least.' he sighed. 'I know that research could be very useful for those who have been bitten but I also know the next step of that drug or vaccine, whatever they get it manufactured, It will apply to everyone else. Every lycanthrope, Hannibal, without exception. Some of them don't want to be healed, nor need it. Either because they like their new condition or because they were born with it. I think we shouldn't impose _normality_ to them. In any case we should let them choose, instead of making them feel they need a cure.'

'I agree with you.' he said, sliding his hands to caress his thighs, looking him fondly.

'I feel more comfortable working on your project.' Will confessed. 'I know that any day it can get out of hands and everything could end terribly wrong and we can repent but... at least we want to help those people. I cannot say the same of the researchers or pharmacists. I don't trust their intentions.'

'I understand.' he bent to kiss his lips and took the agent's face in his hands. 'Your help is so important to me.'

'I know.'

'I love you, Will.'

'I love you too.'

They kissed again. It was a slow, tender kiss that ended with a hug and the consequent mutual mark. They exchanged their scents in an intimate show of affection and devotion.

Now, at the present time, their fingers toying idly as if they had nothing better to do. The wine tasted fruity in their throats and the afternoon sun caressing their skin warmly. Inside the house was their home, their family, and outside the world opened before them, vast and unpredictable as the ocean that opened at their feet.

 **THE END**

 

 


End file.
